#Galaxy Buds Live | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eatommo · 1 year ago

Text

Like Real People Do [d.d]

Summary: You and Mando have a history of broken hearts and are both looking for a place to land in the galaxy you live in, but you'll always have each other.

A/n: Not beta'd! mistakes are my own! and look a Hozier song to a Pedro fic what's new! I love this. I hope you do too! 6.2k

Cw: Canon typical violence, mentions of human trafficking, use of weapons, mutual pining, discussions of loss, discussions of war, brief mentions of grief, Reader is from Alderaan (trauma that comes from that), the reader has some of my tattoos because we love a self-insert, broken glass, pubic hair?, unprotected p in v, mentions of marking, hickeys, mentions of oral sex m/f receiving, fingering, the helmet stays on, breeding kink if you squint, as always touched starved Din, themes involving depression and loss, takes place post season 3 but has a flash back to season 1, I probably missed something but let me know!

It had been ages since you’d seen him. You’re not sure how many rotations, but not a day has passed that you didn’t think about him. But there, just passing the entrance to the trading post, his shiny beskar helmet flashes over the crowd.

You put your head down, looking at the spare parts you were hoping to auction off for some measly credits at a holiday festival for some caf and to help you hopefully buy some piece of junk craft to get you off this dusty and dry planet.

Maybe you’ll be lucky and you can slink away, and evade an awkward reunion all altogether. You found an outcropping and a small table covered in different smoked meats and small roasted animals.

You try to sell the fact that you look busy while you think about the last time you spoke to him. Your conversation about the rebel symbol marred into your skin with black ink, Cara had done it herself, and you’d helped her put the very same symbol on her cheek. The pain felt good, it mirrored the grief that felt immeasurable and it almost felt like a release of all of the terrible thoughts of your family’s final moments. Had your family suffered? Did they even know what was coming for them?

You were young and had just gotten off the planet in search of something greater, a higher purpose. Something to believe in, and the empire stole everything you’d ever known in one simple explosion.

It had handed you a purpose, for a time. Working with the rebellion, standing with your Princess, and fighting and punishing the Empire for the loss of Alderaan. Cara and you were hiding out on Sorgan after leaving your post as shock troopers. You were in the fresher when they started to tousle outside, you expected some gruff Klatoonian who she sharked in a bet, as it often was. Instead, she lies on her belly, a blaster pointed at a chrome-covered Mandalorian, who is lying on his back with a weapon drawn.

The only thing that holds your attention is a little green baby holding a cup of soup, mirroring your amusement waddling up next to you.

He coos, looking between you and his companion like he expects you to save him. “Sorry bud, I’m with her.”

An aggravated harsh pant cuts you off, “Stay away from him.” The blaster shifts to you, but you raise your hands and keep an even temper. He looks between the two of you, who clearly have no intention or idea what he is in possession of, and offers to buy the two of your dinner. ��

He didn’t speak much at first, but as you and Cara drank away a flagon of spotchka and you shared your interest in his ship, having to grow up around the rebel's fleet and wanting to see such an old military craft, he offered to show you.

“It’s a short walk, the kid is falling asleep in your lap anyway.” You look down at the little wrinkled green monster, blinking slowly with his massive eyes as you stroke his ears, you can’t help but fawn over him.

“I can’t believe they’re hunting a baby.” Whispering, as you feel the warmth of his tiny body, heartbroken at the idea of an imperial remnant looking for children.

“He is older than I am.” His surprisingly playful voice almost startled you, he’d been quietly walking by your side as you carried the little guy nestled into your chest.

“He’s” you struggle to find words, but you can feel an energy emanating from the little creature in your arms “magnificent.”

The Mandalorian hums lowly, agreeing with you. There’s a pause for a few moments while you look over at him, “Did you find a lot of purpose? With the rebellion?”

It's your turn to be broody, “For a time.” Suddenly feeling subconscious you speak a little bit more quietly, “Just waiting for the next thing to believe in I guess.” You sigh, gazing down into the dark black ink just above your rebel stripes, “It feels like I could keep fighting forever, but hearing all this, seeing such a small child threatened by the same evil as I was, it feels like I already have.” You’re not sure if he understands you, or even what side of the war he stood on.

“You feel like there’s reasons to fight.” He looks down into the baby drifting to sleep in your clutches. “But afraid that you have no fight left.” You half expect him to be criticizing you. Mandalorians have lost almost as much as you have, but are warriors by nature and have fought and continue to be feared across the galaxy as mercenaries and bounty hunters. His voice is soft, and understanding, as if processing his words himself.

You spot the ship ahead, falling silent in your admiration you trudge through the leaves and sticks that have fallen from the ship clearing its landing. The ramp hisses as it falls open to welcome its pilot, but you stop outside to admire the twin engines and their decades-long wear and tear.

Walking around the ship to admire her heavy laser cannons and her yellow markings. He watches you with a quiet but proud silence, as you eventually shuffle up the ramp to set the little one into a floating pram. Your eye catches a glimpse of a carbonite freezing chamber, and a little anxious butterfly seems to stir in your belly, how much do you trust him?

“I always thought I’d die looking for a bounty when I got too old, too slow, or just in plain luck.” You turn heel to face him, heartbeat clipping unsteadily in your chest, but you raise an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. He hesitates and sets himself on top of one of the shipping containers. “But protecting this child has made me dream of a life I never thought I could fight for.”

You can feel your body soften at his confession, cursing yourself for thinking lowly of a man whose been nothing but kind and trusting of you. “I’m sure it's lonely.” You take a small but calculated breath, “He is lucky to have you.” The smile is soft, and you try to reassure him despite yourself.

He looks at you standing but a few steps away from him, and nods, “I’m just as lucky.”

The bustle of the holiday market slows to accommodate him, traversing through the stalls as all shapes and sizes scurry out of his way. You swear to yourself, turning away and buying some meat you can’t afford. When you hear your modulated name fall out of his mouth like a prayer, soft and delicate. He steers around the crowd, veering right into your path as a child walks in front of you blowing bubbles from the straw of a festive drink.

The Mandalorian approaches you with purpose, his walk deliberate and commanding as if everyone in the vicinity answers to him. “Mando.” you smile briefly, warmth heating your cheeks, and the never-fading crush you have on this man skipping around your belly. “Hi.”

His gaze stays fixed as he reaches for your arm, touching a patch of ink that not only is new to him but you completely forgot about. His glove runs over it and when it doesn’t smear it might’ve made his knees buckle. “The Crest.”

You peer into the helmet, glad to have him near you again, and realizing how much you missed hearing his voice, a rush of blood washes over your cheeks again. “Yeah,” you fumble around doubting your reasons for getting that tattoo in the first place, “I’ve been adding a couple of ships that are important to me.”

You hear a small noise but are unable to determine the emotion behind it, “I was hoping to see you on Nevarro,” your heart rate picks up in your chest, and of course, his helmet picks it up, “the last few times.”

“I’ve been moving around, looking for something new.” There’s a sleepy squeal coming from his satchel, “is that?” He swings it around to the front and opens the top of the bag to reveal your favorite green forehead. “Handsome man! I’ve missed you little mudscuffer.”

Mando chuckles under his breath as you pull the baby from his confines and offer him a piece of the meat you just bought. He swallows it down greedily. “I swear he eats. He just woke up.”

You smile and give him a playful look, “Is daddy feeding you enough munchkin?” You hand the baby another strip, Mando is glad you don’t see him adjusting his pants as the word daddy slips between your lips innocently, “Don't worry I’ll get you something sweet too.”

Mando rests his hands on his hips, and shakes his head in mock defeat, “He’s not gonna want to leave.” He follows at your back as you carry the child through the marketplace, sometimes letting his palm rest on your back to keep close to you.

He would not be one to admit but seeing you carry the child around reminds him of the times on Sorgan, of the weeks you spent together and his floundering inability to court you. Even now the way you look at him has him hiding behind his beskar helm like a foolish schoolgirl.

“He doesn’t have to, are you here for business?” You cast a look over your shoulder, “He can stay with me while you take care of whatever you need.” You find a stall selling some fruity overpriced drink for the planetary holiday.

You look into your bag, coming up just a few credits short, and cursing at yourself. Starting to walk away, “I’ve got it.” He cuts in front of you while gripping your shoulder and standing over the top of you, handing more than enough credits to the man in exchange for two drinks.

Yet another blush creeps into your cheeks, “No need to spoil me.” You offer the child his drink and he snatches it away from you eagerly with a screech.

“I want to.” That causes your brows to knit together and a deep ache below your belt to settle and warm.

You sip away at the luxuriously sweet drink, wishing you could at least share it with him. “I have a room at an inn,” you offer, “or we could go back to the Crest, and catch up.”

You lean against one of the walls so that you don’t accidentally traverse even further from his bounty. “I don’t have the crest.”

Your drink turns to ash in your mouth, “What? Is she in disrepair? I’m sure Karga-“

“It’s rubble on the planet Tython.” He’s sad, of course he is, but his hand finds the mark on your skin again, and you can’t help but mull over the memories, the connection you shared on that ship eviscerated.

“I’m so sorry.” You let your head hang low, remembering how many conversations you shared hoping he’d invite you aboard as crew. “I loved that ship. I mean not as much as you I’m sure.”

He chuckles, thumb brushing over the silhouette as he speaks, “You don’t happen to know how to rewire an N-1 starfighter engine?”

“I’m sure I could look at it, but I don’t think I’d be much help. Where the hell did you find one?” You’re a bumbling mess, wanting so eagerly for him to scoop you off this planet like he had before, but also knowing your heart couldn’t bear to watch him leave a third time.

“I didn’t think so but I have no idea what you’ve been up to and-“ he pauses, stopping himself to watch you take a sip of the drink after licking some whipped cream off of the straw.

“And?” You prompt him to continue, but he stares between you and the child who have matching bright red tongues and are both sporting some whipped cream out of the corners of your mouths.

You catch a hint of strain in his voice, “We can rest at your place for a while. He’s due for a nap.” You squint at him a little, easily reading his stiff body language and the change of subject.

At the word nap, the baby babbles away while chewing on the straw of his drink, “There’s a lot of sugar in this, so we might have to wait it out.”

Mando lets out an exasperated sigh, “What have you gotten us into.” You’re both sitting on the floor of a modest single room with the little one taking turns climbing up and over the two of you.

“You bought it,” raising your hands in defense, smile splitting ear to ear, “I was going to split one with him.” You reach out to try to grab his surprisingly quick body but he darts away with a giggle.

“He’ll crash, eventually.” You could hear him talk about the baby for hours, to sit with him and watch the two of them play together always felt like a treat on its own. “Get down from there.”

“He’s fine, this place is a dump anyway.” You smirk over your shoulder as he climbs up onto your bed, rolling around and giggling half to himself while chewing on the mythosaur skull pendant around his neck.

“How did you end up here?” Your face falls a little, but he’s kind, and soft, and you can tell he doesn’t want to pry but his curiosity is getting the best of him.

“I was tracking a bunch of smugglers, the republic got word that they were hauling children to Canto Bight, and exporting them maker knows where.” You continue, trying to keep your breath even, “Cara had asked me as a favor, but I had a run-in with a group of pirates who saw my stripes and stole my ship.”

“Does she know?” He shuffles closer to you, folding his knees in so that he can run a hand soothingly across the skin of your leg.

“I don’t know,” You clear the tightness in your throat, “At least I don’t think so.” You find the words pouring out of you as if he is comforting you into realizing something you’ve been fighting for a long time. “I don’t think I can fight like this anymore, and I don’t know how to tell her that.”

He is quiet, giving a simple solemn nod, before pulling the rising phoenix from his back, and laying it on the floor. He scoots closer to you, settling next to you as you both lean against the foot of your bed. His beskar shoulder plate is cold on your cheek, as you lean against him, seeking reassurance you haven’t felt in so long.

Silently a tear falls down your face, and as if prompted by his little superpowers the baby, climbs into your lap nuzzling your cheek and touching your face gently with a warm hand. There are a lot of things this child is capable of, things you can’t begin to understand, over a lifetime that is marred with more violence and confusion than you will likely ever know existed. When he touches you, you can feel his pain and loss, but he also shares with you a joy and unfathomable curiosity over the smallest things he remembers.

“I can’t take you on the N-1,” his voice startles you out of your stupor with the baby, “but if you’ll give me a few days, I’ll be back to pick you up, and you can stay with us on Nevarro until you find somewhere else, something else to do.”

Your breath is shaking, and you’re not even sure the last time you felt safe enough to cry. A small piece of you wants to run because that's what you've been doing for these last 10 or so years of your life. Running from the Empire, running after them, and then running from yourself. “I don’t think I could.”

“Why not?” he reaches for your shaking hand, setting his gloved hand on top of yours, driving the energy in the room with the ease of piloting a speeder bike.

“You’re a family, he has a routine, you’ve settled into this beautiful life that you’ve worked tirelessly for. I couldn’t impose.” You try your best to sound strong like you’ve got a plan ahead of you, and the idea of not being around the two of them doesn't make your heart ache.

He hums, and for a moment your cry is less of confusion and more out of pain. His hand is gone from yours, and the lack of his warmth feels like a slap into reality, as you pinch your eyes shut to stop yourself from being embarrassed even further.

You jump. There's a much larger warm hand caressing your cheek, and turning your head into the dark stare of his visor. You can see the tanned skin of his wrist as he turns your face slightly, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “It is the greatest mistake of my life leaving you on Sorgan.”

You sniffle, the words sorting through the emotional fog of your brain, searching the blank emotionless canvas of metal for a hint of human connection, a flutter of an eyelash, anything. You can’t find anything, until you hear the faint sound of his breath from beneath his mask, stuttering and insecure, his chest rising and falling like he’s fighting a battle with his own emotions.

You feel it again, a swell in your chest of love and admiration and then you feel the tiny claws digging into the skin of your bicep. You look down at the tiny man as he steps between where your chests are separated by mere inches, “Could I have her come and get us?” You’re quiet as a loth cat, voice heady and rough. “I don’t think I could watch you go.”

He lets the little one settle into his lap after a moment, this time you can hear relief and a half-broken smile in his tone, “Let’s just wait until he falls asleep, I’ll go to the ship and send a transmission. I’ll come back with his pram, and then where we go. You go.”

You clear your throat again, wanting so desperately for this to be real and aching to touch him. “Okay.” your voice barely makes a squeak, he pressed the cold beskar helm to your temple.

Wondering if he feels as raw as you, you place your hand on top of his suppressing the need to comment on how large it is, and tangle your fingers with his. You stare at his hand, tanned and massive and warm. Human. You fold your legs in on themselves and shift your body so that you may properly look at him.

The glove sits in his lap, and he looks so imposing in this tiny half-furnished room, polished and chrome in the dingy and ill-lit space you've called ‘home’ for these last few cycles. You take his other hand, and look up to see if he’s going to stop you, but he is still and silent, so you slip the glove off his hand. You trace from the tip of his middle finger, down his palm and up towards the pulse point of his wrist.

He shudders beneath your touch, thankful for the mask to hide the crimson flush of his cheeks. He’s never had the opportunity to enjoy a tenderness like this, to feel his pulse quicken and the nervous butterflies he’s heard described during love stories on a holodrama. It’s terrifying, he feels like he could vomit, but the way your delicate fingers trace circles over the palm of his hand makes him want to run his hands over every last inch of your body until he knows it inside and out like his blaster.

The child settles into his lap, leaning his head against your arm as his head and eyes grow heavier with sleep. “Why don’t we walk to your ship together?”

Your eyes are bright, and he can tell by your posture that you feel better, but he can’t stop the audible grumble, not ready to let you or even your hand slip from his. He nods and swallows harshly to clear his throat, “Alright.”

You walk across the market again, and the crowd parts before the two of you except this time you are holding onto his hand, and rather than trying to avoid his gaze like every other soul walking the market, you cling to his him trying to suppress the smirk curling the corners of your mouth.

Nevarro has changed so much, you spend the first few days just getting accustomed to the new layout of the town. Dropping the child, ‘Grogu’ (it took a while but it grew on you) at school, and then going to spend time in the market picking up some rations and some of the seasonal veg you’ve been coaxing into the little one’s belly.

The domestic bliss that comes with living with Mando is both welcome and intoxicating. You’re awake at odd hours of the night, talking and sharing stories about Jawas and your run-ins with Ewoks, and sharing your dreams and hopes for the galaxy.

He shares stories about Mandalore, about visiting there for the first time and bathing in the healing waters, about Bo Katan seeing a Mythasaur alive. All things you heard about as a young child, and symbols that brought hope and purpose to the entire creed were real and were aiding to heal the planet and its inhabitants.

Then there were times when you both laid on the floor, watching the little one interact with a metal sphere, using his magic to hover it just out of your grasp and giggling himself to a peaceful sleep. You’d lay together, wrapped in the comfort and protection of his house, and stare at the little man as he sleeps occasionally peaking into the reflection of yourself in his helmet, and blushing when you catch your own heart racing.

You want to tell him how you crave to be with him, how addicting his presence and his mind are to you, but you’re afraid. Afraid to move too fast, to step over his barriers, but also knowing that each second without knowing the softness of his mouth is torture.

The first time you see him in his sleep clothes, a plain dark green shirt with three buttons on the top and loose-fitting black canvas pants, no metal aside from his helmet, you choke on your cup of Jawa juice. He’s large even without the metal beefing up his silhouette, his back broad and the fabric thin enough for you to see his muscles move as he opens a drawer for silverware. Even treating yourself to a glimpse of his waist and the way it tapers to his ass and hips.

It’s become more common, in fact when he gets home, he almost immediately strips out of the armor in favor of something more casual and comfortable.

Tonight the energy is different. The kid passes out early and you’re soaking a pot you used for dinner in the sink when he emerges out of his room. You hear his footsteps, but they’re muted and soft, he’s barefoot. As you glance over your shoulder as he offers you a glass from his bedroom you see he’s in briefs, (the house is admittedly warmer as the seasons change) but the shock is plain as day as you turn so quickly away the glass slips from your hand and shatters on the floor. But the image of his chest spattered with hair that trailed down his soft belly and into the top of his black undergarments.

You both are silent for a moment, hoping the noise isn’t loud enough to wake the baby, in his silence you swear, “Kriff, don’t move I’ll get a broom.” You shy away, looking to the ground for a safe path.

He cuts you off arm darting in front of you to halt your movement, “I’ll get it.” His hand comes to rest on your hip stalling your movements with his warm palm.

His other hand reaches out and before you can grumble in discontent he's lifting you onto the counter. You sit there, flustered with your hands tucked between your thighs as he fiddles with the control of his helmet flicking through to see which would help him find the scattered pieces of glass the best.

It's moments, but it feels like an eternity as he searches for a broom, sweeping the glass into a neat pile before discarding it into the bin silently. He settles between your legs, silent as a mouse.

“I'm sorry.” You smile sheepishly, struggling to maintain eye contact as he hovers in front of you, inches separating your face, and if it were any cooler you would’ve fogged the front of his mask with your breath.

He chuckles dryly, “Don’t be, I’ll take it as a compliment.” His posture is full of confidence, but also comfortable and relaxed. You long to touch him, to run your hand over his chest and abdomen, to feel the muscles shift in his back as he- “Mesh’la?”

You blink yourself out of a daze, “You should, you’re so handsome.” He braces his hands on the counter next to your hips and leans ever closer.

“Yeah?” His voice is hot like a pant, stroking a fire in the room that neither of you are able to ignore any longer.

“Yeah.” You smirk at him, emboldened and smoothing your hands up the strong plains of his arms, squeezing lightly around the muscles of his biceps. You let your foot run across his calf, urging him closer to your body, his hands find your waist, firm but careful as his thumbs stroke the skin just below your breasts. You curse yourself for even bothering with a bra band.

“I like having you here.” His head tilts, you can almost see the gears turning in his brain as he continues, “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He uses his strength to pull you a little closer to him, so with each breath your chests touch and your core is flush to his abdomen. “Having you in my kitchen, sitting on my counter looking so pretty, so-” He swipes the hair off your shoulder exposing your neck and throat, “edible.”

Any chance you had of playing it cool is gone, you want nothing more than to bend to his will. His hand disappears from your side, and he tangles it in your hair, using it to fix your eyes to his through the helm, as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. You feel completely safe, but there’s something about him thats dangerous, hungry even, and it makes your skin damp with sweat.

He sounds like he’s in agony, like each passing moment without consuming you is torture, and you ache for him in a way that astonishes you, embarrasses you, not even sure that you could stand on your own two feet.

“I need you.” He whispers, breath uneven almost a growl, “Tonight. Now.” He reaches between your legs, letting his fingers ghost over you ever so gently, as if asking, no begging, for permission.

You swallow hard, his helmet tilts, admiring you, and you hardly manage to stutter a yes. Part of you expects him to be quick, tearing at your clothes and taking you right here in the kitchen.

He doesn’t.

He goes slow, letting the crest of his helmet fall to rest on your forehead, taking his time to caress your hips, tracing up your sides and taking your shirt with it. His hands are warm, but bring goosebumps to your skin as he touches you, hands squeezing your breasts and rubbing your nipple. You keen, pressing desperately against his hands. You lean in, placing a kiss to his collarbone, gentle and moving slow so he may stop you if he wants, but he drops his shoulder and tilts his head to expose his neck.

You kiss his collarbone again, letting your tongue dart out to taste his skin, he’s vibrating beneath you. Trembling as you kiss the hollow of his throat and nibble at the skin of his neck. You run your hands down his chest, basking in the intimacy and living for the scent of his skin.

He lifts you in a fluid motion, whisking you out of the kitchen and into his modest bedroom. Laying you on the bed, he runs his hands down your legs and removes your pants. You blush, unable to hide your arousal but noticing the prominent tent in his briefs, your mouth waters and you get to consider getting on your knees for him briefly.

He’s faster than you, and not thinking about himself. Ripping your underwear from your body and running the tip of his index fingers through your folds. “All this for me?” He circles your entrance, gathering your slick before brushing across your clit with leg-shaking precision.

You chase his touch, the pleasure coating your tongue and fogging your brain even more than you can put into words. You beg for him to get closer, to press your bodies together until you weren't sure you'd ever part.

You're expecting to feel shorted by the absence of his mouth on yours. No taste of him, and not getting to hear his words directly from his mouth, but his touch is consuming. Like he's worshiping and waking each cell with caresses and adoration that's as palpable in the air as his sheets were soft on your back.

There are noises, words you think, that he is muttering between each supple squeeze and tease, words you've heard him say before but their meaning is only now defined by his actions.

Love. He loves you. You can feel it in the heat of his hands as he spreads your legs apart and admires the way you part for him, and he sinks two fingers into your fluttering pussy, pushing up and stroking something dangerous.

His erection is nestled against your leg, and he shifts his hips with every twist of his fingers for a few moments, pressed between your bodies he feels a glimmer of relief with a groan, as much as he wants to bathe you in attention, he thinks that if he waits any longer his heart might give out before the best part. “Mesh’la,” he twists his fingers as if to be sure you're listening, “Please.”

“Yes,” you nod, swallowing harshly as he slips free of his underwear, cock springing free of its confines. You gawk, unabashedly, as he did to you just moments ago. He's large, intact, leaning slightly to his left, and the skin is tanned brown, slightly darker than the rest of his body, thick and weeping out of the brilliantly flushed pink tip, the base adorned with sparse but dark hair that trails up to his navel deliciously. When he steps between your legs and lets it rest on your abdomen to press your forehead together again, you feel its heady weight against you and stoop so low as to beg, “Please.”

You're echoing each other's moans as he grinds against your folds, coating himself in your slick before sinking into you in a single brutally slow thrust. When he bottoms out, you do your best not to squeak as the girth of his member breaks you open, it doesn't hurt, rather it feels like you've both waited an eternity to come to this very moment, euphoric and fulfilling the needs of your body and soul.

He grinds his pelvis against yours letting his hand shift to cup your cheek, staring at you, he hopes somehow you can sense it. How he is barely able to stop passing between the pout of your lips and the deep pleading look in your eyes, begging him for the same thing his heart is calling for. He could weep, having finally shorn the armor to dedicate himself to you, because the truth is, all you needed was to ask. He would've dropped his creed, everything he had achieved, and the meek life he'd planned for himself to grovel at your feet for the rest of his human life.

Devotion, that's what it was called. He had felt at many moments of his life that he was in the right place, blessing along his journeys that started out as miracles, friends, familial bonds he didn't think he deserved. It felt misplaced, the little blessings that had entered his life so quickly that he swore they had to have been accidents. It had taken losing the child and abandoning you on that god-forsaken planet, for him to reflect, and to realize that the life he deserved was not determined by some blasters and an army, nor his home planet. He had the life he wanted in his palms once, and watched it slip through his fingers with the charred remains of his ship. His grip tightened instinctively, twisting the sheet in his fist.

It was you. You were the representation of all of the things he wanted but never thought he deserved. A family, a place to call home, and you even had committed something as passing as his ship to your skin with a permanence that scared him.

Here your skin was warm, surrounding him, nurturing him, squeezing him, and his mind was trying so hard to be a person, not a machine, loving someone else for the first time.

He found the words, he said it to you, over and over with his pelvis angled just right as he ground his hips into you.

He was throbbing inside of you, you could feel the slick slide and pulse of him with each thrust. The pleasure was so intense you were whimpering and mewling beneath him, wetness smearing onto your thighs and running on the sheets below.

You've had sex before of course, and now you seriously doubt you've been doing it right. You kiss at the hollow of his throat, and in response he hunches over you, arms on either side of your head, animalistic yet praising affirmations go straight to the building heat in your core.

You let your hands, come up to his back digging your nails into his skin. He moans in shock as his thrusts grow more frenzied, spurred on by the bite of pain at his back. He reaches between you and circles your clit with his thumb, pulling you headfirst into your orgasm. You're body goes taught and relaxes all at once, the pleasure blinding you as your vision goes white and each tilt of his hips makes you stutter out an overstimulated moan.

The fluttering of your sex around him would be enough to send over the edge but as you catch your breath you begin to beg for him to finish inside you. He does, still feeling you shivering through the after waves of your own, as he groans and revels through the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, complete with curled toes and a knuckle-popping grip on the sheets. He’s still looking at you, the rise of fall of your chests bumping into each other and your breath fogging the front of his helmet so much that when you kissed right over his eye, he could see the imprint of your lips for just a passing moment.

“I can’t believe we waited so long.” You chuckle, all smiles but looking as dazed and spent as he felt. A shiver coming over him as the small sounds cause you to tighten slightly around him as he softens, his body incredible sensitive.

“I’ll spend the rest of our life making up for it.” You note the sound of him speaking through the grit of his teeth, and do your best to lie still, not wishing to be parted just yet.

Months later, you’re married in a private ceremony in front of friends and his brothers and sisters of the clan. It's quick, and everything you had expected of a warrior’s wedding. You get the mudhorn symbol tattooed into the skin nestled behind your ear, wearing it proudly and with your vows you are made a family, a clan of three in front of all the important people you care about.

You’d be remiss if what had you most excited isn’t the filthy promises he’s made to you about that night, taking his helmet off and kissing you everywhere he can for as long as he wishes. Promising to leave a mark over your new clan sigil as he marks the rest of your body for him, as you’ve done to him many times over. You get to admire his face and the most handsome man in the galaxy who kneels before you with reverence and vows to take care of you with more than just his words.

#pedro pascal #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin #eatommos 🗞️#the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader smut #din x reader #pedro pascal fanfic

162 notes · View notes

annoyinglyhardsong · 3 months ago

Text

Codywan Week 2024: Day 8 Five Year Anniversary

Author Note: We have reached the end of Codywan Week this year! Thank you @codywanweek for putting on such an amazing event. This is the first time I've participated in something like this and it has been so amazing getting to see all of the amazing things you guys have created and sharing the things I've been able to create with all of you. Here's my day 8 prompt fill I just really wanted to write something cute and cozy of Obi-Wan and Cody just enjoying some peace together after the war in the fix-it au that these boys live in. (Sorry I love them both too much to let them suffer through all the angst that they go through.) As always likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Divider by @saradika-graphics, if you are looking for any cute graphics or dividers they have tons of amazing ones!

Tags/Warnings: SFW, cozy Codywan, sweet, kisses, a little bit of that's not how the Force works but go with it for me, slightly force sensitive Cody, soft Obi-Wan, anniversary celebrations, cozy morning meditations

The war had been over for three years, and after the chaos of cleanup and reparations and peace talks had finally been settled it had been three years of almost domestic tranquility for Obi-Wan.

The Jedi had worked with the clones and the senators they knew would support them to get multiple bills passed that recognized them as sentient beings and therefore deserving of all of the same rights as every other human in the galaxy. Like pay, the ability to vote, to get married, the list was almost endless.

The Jedi had also offered up the option to the clones to apply for transfers to continue their work alongside their Jedi in the temple. After all the Jedi that had been lost in the war they needed all of the help they could get, but more than that after years working alongside each other during the war many of the generals and their troopers were anxious to keep working together in any capacity and seeing as how integrated the two had already become it wasn’t much of a stretch to apply their current working arrangements to times of peace instead of war.

Cody had almost immediately jumped on the opportunity to transfer to the temple and continue working with Obi-Wan. Personal relationship aside the two worked well together and couldn’t imagine not at this point. They were two halves of the same coin, what one didn’t think of the other probably did.

Today was an average day in the temple. Nothing extremely pressing to deal with that day, just a few meetings. Obi-Wan had woken early that morning and was settled comfortably in front of the window in the main portion of his quarters, sinking deep into meditation.

During the war the force had been so turbulent and he and some of the other masters had been able to feel it growing weaker and more distant. But now that the Sith Lord, Chancellor Palpatine, and his minions had been dealt with, the Force had come back stronger than ever. Things felt right in the galaxy again.

Eventually he felt a familiar force signature flare nearby. Rousing from a deep reddish orange, to something brighter like the colors of the sunrise, bringing a small smile to his face. Cody was awake then. Obi-Wan reached out towards his partner through their budding force bond, he had always suspected Cody may be just a little Force sensitive and this was all but confirming it, and sent a small nudge of greeting towards the other before entwining his own force signature with his partners’.

Cody’s force signature had always been strong. A light in the dark, and a shelter from storms when racing thoughts and self-doubt wanted to consume him. It was warm, inviting, and steady just like Cody. This early in the morning he couldn’t help but be drawn to that warmth, like a moth to the flame, and just observed Cody going about his morning routine.

Using Cody’s force signature as an anchor, Obi-Wan was able to fully relax into his meditation letting the force swirl around him in a familiar manner, always keeping Cody’s wearabouts in the back of his mind as he padded between the bedroom and the main living quarters finishing the task of getting ready for the day.

Eventually the warmth that was Cody settled next to him, placing a warm cup of tea near him, drawing him out of his meditation finally.

“Good morning my dear,” he said, opening his eyes to give Cody a warm smile before picking up his tea and taking a careful sip, relishing in the warmth the beverage provided against the chill of the morning.

“Good morning,” Cody replied softly, shuffling a little closer to Obi-Wan to gently lean his head on the other man’s shoulder, Obi-Wan bringing an arm up to wrap around Cody. A familiar embrace as they watched the sun crest over the horizon on Coruscant. Sunlight slowly reaching across the land to glint off of buildings and vehicles.

They had spent many mornings like this, and had seen far more beautiful sunrises on planets far across the galaxy. But this one felt a little more special. Today marked 5 years since he and Cody had started dating. 5 years since Cody had officially asked him to be his cyare. And Obi-Wan had never been happier.

Being with Cody was as effortless as breathing. That’s not to say that they didn’t disagree on occasion or butt heads over matters, but with some time to think and cool down they were usually able to resolve things quickly and come to some kind of agreement. But day to day life was seamless. They had gotten along well professionally and the transition to forming a relationship in their personal lives just made sense to them. He was the other half to Obi-Wan’s soul, and he would forever be grateful that they had met. “My dear, do you know what day it is?” Obi-Wan asked quietly, still watching the sunrise over Coruscant.

Cody gave a thoughtful hum. “No?”

“Happy Anniversary love,” Obi-Wan murmured into Cody’s hair pressing a kiss into the curls.

“Is it really? Already? It feels like we just celebrated our anniversary. Happy Anniversary!” Cody responded, panicking for a second before settling.

“That it does, my love.” Obi-Wan replied with a smile and a small chuckle. Turning more serious he said, “Thank you for the most wonderful last 5 years. You have made my life truly magnificent, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of it with you.” He finished, cheek coming off of where it was resting on Cody’s head to meet his eyes. “I love you Cody, till the ends of the galaxy.”

“I love you too Obi, to the ends of the galaxy and beyond,” Cody responded, hand coming up to cup Obi-Wan’s cheek before pressing a kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips.

#codywan week 2024 #commander cody #my writing #obi wan kenobi #codywan week #obi wan x cody #codywan #codywanweek #codywanweek2024 #cww2024 #anniversary #that's not how the force works

43 notes · View notes

yoursweetestnightmarelover · 22 days ago

Text

More Cyn X Tessa

Tessa: I can't take this anymore, someone needs to take me out! Cyn: In a dating type of way, or an assassination type of way? Tessa: I don't know, surprise me!

Cyn: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time? Tessa: AS ENEMIES?! Cyn:...

Tessa: Are you sure Cyn's even gay? They barely even looked at me.

Cyn hanging above her like a bat watching her:...

V: Call it a hunch

Cyn: So you like cats? Tessa: Yeah. Cyn: tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table

Tessa: Being gay is a constant battle between “I wish to sit on a window bench with my lover, our legs tangling as we listen to the birds” and “Hey, let's go throw rocks at fascists” and I think that's very beautiful of us. Cyn looking at Louisa and James: If the window's open, and you time it right, you can do both.

Cyn: Yeah, a partner sounds nice, but a supreme enemy you can make out with in secret sometimes sounds a lot more hardcore.

Surprise Juzi

Uzi: Fight me! J: gets on one knee and pulls out a ring J: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

And some Vuzi

V: Ugh, crushes are so dumb. Uzi: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid. V: But you’re always acting stupid? Uzi: … Uzi: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

V: You need a hobby. J: I have a hobby! V: Fawning over Tessa isn’t a hobby.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming

Tessa, looking through their clothes: Has anyone seen my top? V: Cyn's in the kitchen.

Cyn: Are you ready to commit? Tessa: Like, a crime or a relationship? Cyn looking at the gala: Both?

Cyn bursting into the gala with Tessa in her arms: We’re getting married, bitches! Tessa: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

Cyn: Tessa, you love me, right? Tessa: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Tessa: Goodbye mom I'm finally 18 I can go to copper 9 my new life starts now!!! I can't wait to get a boyfriend get a dream job and live a perfectly normal life! Tessa like five months later: Hi mom! I would like you to meet my wife, Cyn! She's a mutated AI machine goddess! And this is one of my best buds who dresses up as a hot topic employee and beats people up! Uzi in the background: I'm not your buddy, you monster fucker. Tessa: also I'm wanted in 22 galaxies lol.

#murder drones #murder drones tessa #tessa james elliot #murder drones cyn #md cyn #tessa x cyn #cyn x tessa #incorrect quotes #source: incorrect quote generator #And GRS on Reddit #juzi #jessa #vuzi

24 notes · View notes

obwjam · 1 year ago

Note

for the prompt, 26 and peter quill with a teenage borrower?

this has been sitting in my inbox for over a month LOL so sorry anon who was probably expecting something better, much sooner

from this post

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

“Aw, c’mon, bud. I’m not that scary, am I?”

You gulped. He kind of was, but you weren’t going to say that.

See, you knew exactly who this guy was – Star Lord, leader of the famous Guardians of the Galaxy. He was so famous that even borrowers knew who they were, and your kind tended to stay so secluded that they barely knew anything about the giants of your world.

It was the thing you hated the most. Giants were fascinating! They did things with such ease, and they never had to worry about basic survival like you did. You knew if you could study them up close, you could learn something and help make life better for all of you.

Unfortunately, you really failed to take into account how utterly terrifying it was going to be.

“Aw, man…” Peter frowned. He had noticed this little thing following him around this shop – they couldn’t have been more than 16 years old. He pretended that he didn’t notice them, since he knew they definitely thought they were being sneaky, but they were so caught up in following him that they didn’t notice the ledge of the shelf they were running across was rapidly approaching, and before they knew it, they were tumbling toward the ground. Peter caught them, and now they were sitting in his cupped hands, wide-eyed and trembling.

Guess he was that scary.

“Hey, don’t – c’mon, it’s alright, don’t cry!”

Crap, you were crying. That’s so embarrassing! you yelled in your head, furiously trying to blink away the tears without moving too much, but it was no use. You thought you were being sneaky. You thought you were being brave. But when it came down to it, you were just as terrified as everyone else in your village.

“Shit, um–” Quill looked around, making sure nobody else was nearby. The rest of the Guardians were waiting back on the ship, since this was supposed to be a quick stop to get these little cookies that reminded Peter of Oreos. “Hold on, ‘lil dude, I’m takin’ us somewhere else.”

You whimpered at the sudden movement, too stubborn to stabilize yourself in fear of looking even weaker than you felt now. A few minutes felt like a few hours, but soon, you stopped moving. Quill had found a quiet corner outside the shop.

“Okay, I think we’re safe here,” he huffed, leaning against a dirty brick wall. He took a moment to look you over – wide eyes, heavy breathing, arms pinned tensely at your side. He wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed, but he knew he had to calm you down.

“What’s your name? Can you tell me that?”

You squeezed your eyes and shook your head. Even if you wanted to tell him, the words would have gotten caught in your throat.

Peter sighed. “Okay. Names later, that’s cool, that’s cool. Well, I’m Peter Quill, people call me Star-Lord.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Quill perked up at the impossibly small sound of your voice. “You know me, huh? I’m that famous?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. How could he not know how famous he was?

You didn’t notice Peter’s soft smile. Maybe he would get through to you after all.

“How old are you, little buddy?”

You hesitated. “...Fifteen.”

“Fifteen?! My god, little dude. You shouldn’t be out alone! Where are your parents?” Quill nearly laughed when he said those words. He never thought he would be the scolding parent type.

You shrunk back. “I…” You didn’t expect him to get mad! And you couldn’t just tell him, either. Why did he have to ask that?!

Peter could immediately tell he had just asked a sensitive question. “Woah, hey, I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, feeling the tears splashing down on his palm. “I, uh, I get it.”

You tilted your head.

“Well, I lost my mom when I was real young, back when I lived on earth.” He said that like you should know what earth was. “And my dad… well, I kind of killed my dad, but I didn't even meet him until a few months ago.” He smirked at the look of sheer confusion on your face. “Oh, don’t worry. He totally deserved it.” A pause. “Anyway! What I’m saying is… I know what it’s like not to have…” He trailed off. “But I’ve got my friends, and that’s more important, anyway. Do you have any friends around?”

You gulped. One of the most sacred borrower rules was to never reveal the existence of others if you were to get caught. Of course, you had already broken the most sacred law, which was to never be seen, no matter what.

You couldn’t help but really reflect on the question he just asked. Sure, you lived with the village, but after what happened to your parents, you were rarely allowed to leave. They didn’t even know you had left to observe Star-Lord. They were gonna be real mad about that.

“...I’ll assume by your long pause and contemplative looks that the answer is, it’s complicated.”

You shook your head sadly. You don’t know what compelled you to admit this; maybe you respected his attempt to sympathize with you. Or maybe you just really wanted his help.

“I… I thought – if I could watch you, I could learn from you,” you squeaked. “Make things better for me. For everyone.”

Quill felt his heart swell. That was an adorable admission.

“But – but nobody listens to me,” you continued. “They don’t care what I have to say. They probably don’t even – I doubt they even noticed that I’m gone.”

A moment passed before Peter spoke again. “Well, what did you learn?”

“Well, I… I learned that giants can be really nice.” You instantly blushed. Did you just say that out loud?

Quill knitted his eyebrows. “Are we not supposed to be?”

“Well… yeah,” you said. “That’s why I’m not supposed to be seen.”

“Gotta say, little bud, you’re doing a terrible job at not being seen.”

Quill was relieved to see you laugh at that. He didn’t know why, but he felt this tug toward you. Maybe it was because you seemed to be receptive to his jokes, or maybe it was the way you looked at him with those pleading eyes. Yondu was there for him when he needed it most – maybe you needed someone like that, too.

“So,” Quill started, “you really want to learn from me?”

You nodded tentatively. What was he getting at?

“Well, if it’s alright with you… why don’t you come hang out with me and the Guardians for a bit?”

You nearly fell over. “What?”

Quill smiled. “You could learn how to fight, how to build stuff, how to pilot a ship… well, maybe not that last part, because nobody flies the Milano but me. But you could definitely watch.”

“Are… are you serious?”

Peter nodded. “Of course I am. Plus, this place sucks, right? Like, it’s totally boring.”

“It – it is pretty uneventful around here.”

“Exactly. See? I think you already know the answer.”

You thought about it for a moment. You would be leaving, totally unannounced. The village would go frantic searching for you… if they even noticed you were gone. You could actually see what was out there! You could learn skills you only dreamed of having. You could protect yourself… just like the giants could.

“I’ll go with you!”

Now, Quill was beaming. “I knew it. Your life is about to become insanely awesome, little bud. Just wait until you meet the others.”

You couldn’t help but beam along with him as he walked away, the landscape you once called home melting further and further in the difference before disappearing completely.

Peter Quill wasn’t so scary after all.

#wow why does it feel so long since ive written marvel #(because it has)#i hope you enjoyed!#obwrites #marvel g/t #g/t #giant/tiny

53 notes · View notes

dailydragon08 · 2 years ago

Text

When You Need Me

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x Jedi!Reader Summary: Luke provides some much needed comfort, cuddles, and kisses after a rough time. A/N: "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force. Trigger warning for descriptions of anxiety/the beginnings of an anxiety attack. Read here on AO3.

You flopped down on the ship’s bunk hard, resting your elbows on your knees and letting your head fall into your hands. The last few missions had been hit after hit, and you were just so drained. It felt like the galaxy was sucking you dry of all your energy in a way that squeezed the air from your lungs and made you tremble. You took a shaky breath, cursing yourself for how it rattled around in your chest.

You’re a Jedi, you told yourself. You’re supposed to be better than this.

Luke had decided to keep the imperial shuttle he escaped the second Death Star in, modifying the insides so you both could live on it if need be. Two cargo holds had been converted into bedrooms with the others holding food, medical supplies, clothes, weapons, and more. The main area had been renovated to mimic the Falcon’s main hold with a refresher in the back. He’d named it the Redeemer and it had become a cozy home filled with your and Luke’s things as you two flitted around the galaxy.

You closed your eyes and let yourself fall into the Force’s embrace. Another rattle of breath filled your lungs as you dug your nails into your skin, resisting the urge to hyperventilate. There was nothing to hold onto out in the coldness of space. All you could sense were the inanimate objects around you, the thrum of R2’s energy, and Luke’s steady heartbeat from where he sat in the cockpit. You focused all your attention on his solidity, breathing in time with him and letting the steady thump-thump of his heart calm you.

Several moments later, a soft voice said, “Hey, starflower.”

“Hi,” you grumbled without looking at the doorway. Still focused on his body, you could feel him carefully walk towards you.

His fingers gently stroked your hair. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. It just…got bad all of a sudden.” You felt the mattress dip as he sat beside you and pulled you against his side. You let your head fall against his shoulder as he took both of your shaking hands in his own.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He nudged his nose into your hair before leaving a kiss there.

“But Jedi aren’t supposed to do this—”

“You’re allowed to have emotions, Y/N. You’re allowed to feel drained and take time for yourself, even if I hate watching you suffer. I just wish you’d come to me when you’re feeling like this—not that you can’t have space if that’s what you need, but I just wish you wouldn’t worry so much about bothering me.”

You turned to meet his eyes. The ocean-like blues held love, sadness, and softness in equal measure as he cradled your face in his hand. “But you have enough on your plate.”

He tilted his forehead against yours. “You’re not a burden. I’m glad you’re on my plate.”

Love for him overwhelmed you and you couldn’t help but give a small smile.

He smiled in return. “There’s the smile…I know things have been hard lately and I’m sorry. Maybe once we get back from this mission, we can take a little break and go somewhere. Just you and me.”

A beep of protest echoed from the cockpit, making you both laugh.

“And R2,” he amended.

You pressed further into his side. “That sounds nice…Where should we go?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Anywhere you want. Just name the place and I’ll fly us there.”

You thought for a moment. “Leia really seemed to like Naboo when she went. You could learn more about your mom, too.”

He nodded. “She said it was really beautiful there…so you’ll fit right in.”

You snorted. “Wow, that was smooth for you, Skywalker.”

“Hey! I can be smooth!”

You giggled. “Have you been talking to your dad’s Force ghost again? Is he giving you suggestions?”

“You know what—come here.” He stood, pulling you up with him and holding you tightly as he suddenly kissed you deeply. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you as his tongue darted past your lips. You drank in his scent and taste, letting your fingers wander into his hair.

One of his hands splayed across the small of your back while the other cupped the back of your head. You made a sound of surprise against his lips as he suddenly dipped you, bringing you back upright just as quickly. Laughs bubbled out of both of you as you broke the kiss.

“How was that for smooth?” he asked, a smug smile on his face.

You playfully whacked his chest, beaming brightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He laughed and dragged the tip of his nose against yours. “Only for you.”

You cackled harder. “Now I’m just picturing you dipping diplomats on base in lieu of a handshake.”

He threw his head back and you couldn’t help but beam at the bright laugh that escaped him. “Oh, I’m sure Leia would love explaining that.”

“Just dip her, too.”

“I already lost one hand. I don’t need to lose the other. Or any feet.”

“Or your head—do they make cybernetic heads?”

He chuckled and buried his face in your neck. “Hey, I thought you liked my head.”

You squeezed him tight. “I like both your heads.”

“Oh, Maker, now you’re the one being ridiculous.” Although his face was hidden, you could feel it suddenly grow hot against your skin as he continued haltingly. “You haven’t even seen the…other…head…”

You chuckled and nuzzled into him, massaging your fingers through his hair. He melted into you and sighed, holding you tighter. “Not yet, anyway,” you mumbled.

He snorted, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before pressing his cheek to yours. “I love you. And I’m here for you, always. Please don’t ever hesitate to come get me when you need me.”

“Okay—but only if you come get me, too.”

“I will. Promise.” He gently caressed the side of your face before planting a kiss on the other side. R2 beeped and whirled from the doorway. “Come on, we’re about to come out of hyperspace.”

You took his hand as he led you to the cockpit. Before you could move to the other chair, he pulled you into his lap and pressed another kiss to your lips. He sighed against you as you deepened it, his hands running up and down your sides and spine. “I love you, too, by the way.”

He smiled. “I know.” The stars stilled around you as the blue light of hyperspace disappeared to be replaced by Ajan Kloss. Luke gently patted your butt as you transferred to the copilot’s chair. You watched as his hands expertly directed the ship toward the planet and hoped your upcoming trip to Naboo would involve him doing other things with his hands.

#star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker imagine #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x jedi!reader #star wars remnants #my writing #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker fluff #tw: anxiety #tw: anxiety attack #luke skywalker comfort

188 notes · View notes

magistralucis · 4 months ago

Note

tell me about morelikethestars or vitanuova!

(Two people asked this, you and @cyberkn1fe. I'll put the overall description here.)

More Like the Stars is the working title for my very first Warhammer 40K fic, which I've been scribbling off and on for the past year 😅 we live on archipelagos is the first one I put online, but it's not the first one I began writing, oh no... I've been working on this one since I first read The Infinite and the Divine in June 2023.

The plot is lengthy. After I&D Orikan drops all pretenses, and sets out on the path towards godhood, except literally everyone has an opinion on his doings and tries to be an obstacle in this endeavour. This is not helped by the fact that the one person he expected would stop him (Trazyn) has gone AWOL, and Orikan is forced to confront just how difficult it has become to exist without Trazyn, not just emotionally but politically/socially/philosophically. Trazyn has his own reasons for declining to be in Orikan's presence, and is not interested (or tries very hard to be not interested) in solving Orikan's problems. The Imotekh vs Szarekh situation rages in the background, as well as third parties who have no faith in either of their approaches, although they aren't the focus of the story. It's a huge mess and no one is happy about the situation, but at least there is angst, which I believe to be the foundation of all good WH40K fics 😂 Here's a snippet from before Trazyn goes AWOL, where Orikan still retains his I&D era bitterness, and doesn't realize this will be one of the last times he sees Trazyn.

Orikan left after that. He stormed straight back into the Zodiac's Fury and left the planet in his dust. Trazyn neither bid him farewell nor acknowledged his departure - didn't care, it seemed, where Orikan ended up, as long as it was not at Solemnace. Orikan was, perhaps, unreasonably mad about it, but he knew not how to explain this to himself nor the archaeovist. So he stayed in Mandragora, fuming away the years, until the twenty-first such solar turn brought Trazyn into his orbit again. This meeting was not intended. Orikan did not even realize it would happen until Trazyn was well on his way, and he was bewildered to hear of it at all, since he happened to be on Gidrim at the time. "Coming to meet Nemesor Zahndrekh, did you say?" He demanded of the general's long-suffering vargard. "And he… the nemesor… allowed it? He personally issued him permission to land?" Not just any land, Sautekh territory, the dynasty most inclined towards vaporizing Trazyn instantly. The idea he'd be invited anywhere near this part of the galaxy was absurd - so much that Orikan hadn't even thought to pluck that particular thread of time, else he'd have nipped it in the bud. "That is correct, Master Orikan." Obyron replied evenly, and Orikan hissed as he flicked his tail. "My lord was glad to hear of his coming. He has not received many visitors in Gidrim recently." "But to receive him for the lack of others? No, that cannot be." Nevertheless, it was what it was. Orikan stared sullenly up at the sky as the inevitable truth of Trazyn's arrival solidified within him. "I am concerned he will harm the nemesor. I say you'd be best off engaging the planetary defenses, blow up his ship on sight."

I don't know if this one will ever be finished or published. I'm okay with it either way, because sometimes you scribble in order to have a figurative sketchpad for other, more complete ideas. There's a lot of worldbuilding in More Like the Stars that I used for my other stories instead - descriptions of the Nephrekh in Viridian were originally developed here, for example. Like with many other things, we'll see.

#more like the stars #orizyn #fanfiction #snippet #necrons #wip tag game

13 notes · View notes

themculibrary · 3 months ago

Text

Baby Groot/Groot Masterlist

A Good Team (ao3) - FormlessVoidbeast groot/rocket M, 2k

Summary: Rocket and Groot make a good team, and Groot isn't going to let a little thing like completely incompatible biology prevent them from taking very good care of each other.

always, really and forever (ao3) - Cyndi M, 26k

Summary: Friendship is the most understated form of love.

Groot’s quest to understand love goes awry when Rocket ends up in the hospital because of his out-of-control drinking. Without his social crutch around, Groot suddenly finds himself having to prove his competence again and again.

A Short List of Relevant Skills and Abilities (ao3) - ignipes T, 2k

Summary: They're very good at a lot of things, but none of those things are very good.

family (ao3) - Groot (grootiez) T, 10k

Summary: When Rocket tries to enroll Groot into a prestigious preschool, he discovers the people in charge there don’t have Groot’s best interests in mind. When they forcibly remove Groot from the only family that he’s ever known, Rocket will stop at nothing in order to get him back.

But time is of the essence: If Rocket fails to prove that Groot should be reunited with his family and that Rocket should be given full parental rights and allowed to formally adopt Groot as his son, they might never see Groot ever again.

Found Family (ao3) - fabrega G, 2k

Summary: "Where did it come from?"

"I am Groot," Groot declares.

"Who would just hand you a baby?!"

Freedom Day (ao3) - Cyndi groot/rocket T, 35k

Summary: Groot and Rocket are friends who have each others' backs and take care of each other no matter what. Now what are they celebrating and why are they celebrating? (Autistic!Groot)

good night (ao3) - HippieGeekGirl G, 376

Summary: Groot can’t sleep, and Rocket needs a little comfort.

Grow, Grow, Grow (ao3) - Eclectic_Goddess G, 715

Summary: Self-realization should be a shocking thing. Instead, it comes slowly and steadily. With each bud, each new leaf, each new bit of growth brings more with it, until…

Groot.

Growing Up Groot (ao3) - Groot (grootiez) T, 6k

Summary: After The Battle of Xandar, Rocket mourns the loss of the only person in the galaxy that has ever cared about him. In a tribute, Rocket plants some twigs that came from his friend’s body to keep as a memory of their friendship. Little does Rocket know, that he will gain a new friend.

I Can Fix This (ao3) - laylabinx T, 6k

Summary: "I can fix this, Quill; just you watch. I can fix this. We'll be out of here in no time." Rocket rambles because he's afraid if he doesn't, he'll suddenly realize how totally and utterly screwed they are.

i’ll be there for you (ao3) - Izzyaro (Isilarma) T, 2k

Summary: If Rocket has faith in anything, it’s that Groot will never let him down.

name game (ao3) - SPARROWFOOT N/R, 6k

Summary: Peter, Drax, Mantis, Groot, Nebula, and Rocket. A bunch’a jackasses sitting in a circle. The core Guardians of the Galaxy, sans Gamora, and — yeah, that will never not sting. So it’s probably for the best that they find their own path, but Peter’s always found it hard to let go of the past. The Guardians will live on, and they will always be family, but they’ll never be this group, in this time, ever again.

“Alright, alright,” Rocket says, with a half-assed attempt at his usual swagger. “Here’s how this is gonna work. We’re gonna, one at a time, name a raccoon baby.” He reaches into the box, pulling one away from the pack. Its little paws knead at the air, trying to find a surface. “Then we’re gonna tag it. Then they’re gonna get to run free ‘round Knowhere until they’ve grown enough to go home.”

Before the Guardians formally disband, Rocket asks one last thing of them all.

of groots and death buttons (ao3) - Groot (grootiez) T, 4k

Summary: Groot is a fast learner. However, when it comes to a certain weapon that Rocket taught Groot how to build for himself, it is Rocket’s responsibility to teach Groot how to handle said weapon as to not put others at risk of death or bodily harm.

The Care and Feeding of a Baby Groot (ao3) - JenTheSweetie T, 1k

Summary: If Rocket wanted to babysit a stick in a pot, that was his business.

We Are (ao3) - Psilent (HereThereBeFic) N/R, 1k

Summary: “I hope you don't mind that I come here. I... appreciate your company. And the quiet.”

(For a prompt on the Guardians of the Galaxy livejournal kink meme: Five (or four) times Groot comforted one of the Guardians and one time they comforted him.)

you’re still young, that’s your fault. (ao3) - DigitalMeowMix T, 3k

Summary: Trying to raise your best friend after he’s turned into a child is hard work. This is definitely not what Rocket signed up for. He just wants his damn partner back.

Scenes from an unconventional parenthood

#themculibrary #marvel #mcu #guardians of the galaxy #groot #groot masterlist #family

10 notes · View notes

novelcain · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! You can call me anon Ara and I absolutely love the triad au lmk thing! Like lmao it's funny but terrifying at the part where the reader got kidnaps and swk just go batshit over it but still we love protective monkeys😍

Speaking of monkeys swk and Macaque are both my fav but I'm more focused on Macaque(sorry swk you will be miss/lh) man just sits in the corner while playing games and let swk do his work, I'm living for that but I got some hcs for this monkey in this au

Like everytime when Macaque saw swk with his girl getting lovey dovey he goes "ew love and affection🤮" and he hate it, at least that's what he thought until he met someone he head over heels for liek another reader! Or a person, idk up to you like working in a cafe or a bakery or something up to you and how they became friends is maybe when Macaque visit the bakery or cafe to take some foods from swk order or anything and then the reader just greets him nicely and smh they spark up a conversation and then they share the same interest(theater show, shadow play thing) and now Macaque can't stop his heart beating rapidly

(oh uh is the six eared Macaque falling in love😳)

And then he ask swk for advice and then swk goes "what wrong BUD? I thought you hate love and affection😏" and tease the hell out of him and Macaque grumbles but gets the most helpful(hopefully) advice from swk and ask the traffic light trios(MK, Mei and Red son) for advice too and regret it cuz they start teasing him too

That's all I got, I love Macaque so much ugh and I absolutely love the au, sorry for ramble too much😔

OMFG! Ara anon I love your brain you inspired such a GALAXY level big brain idea!

What if Macaque was one day sent on a mission to find the hacker that's been shutting them down and leaking plans for weeks now. He tracks this person all the way to a rival gang where he finds... a young woman... in a locked room.

The room was just barely large enough to hold a small mattress and a desk with at least five monitors crammed into it. The girl was currently typing anyway at her keyboard at a pace that would put even him to shame. She appeared to be upset and tired based on her scowl and eyebags.

She clearly didn't want to be here.

"My, my. What have we here~?"

You whipped around to find the source of the voice within the dark room but found nothing.

"A little bird stuck in a cage~?"

The voice was suddenly right next to you, and you snapped your head around to find none other than The Six Eared Macaque from the triad you had been forced to target.

You gulped as you tried to keep your composure. You knew this would happen. You tried to warn them, but they wouldn't listen. Sun Wukong doesn't take kindly to people getting in his way.

And now you were going to pay the price.

"Are you... are you going to kill me?" You asked.

"Hmmm..." The demon tilted his head unsettlingly slow as he seemed to think over your fate.

You jumped back in your chair as the monkey slammed his hands down onto either arm rest. His nose was nearly touching yours now as he bared his fangs in a menacing grin. However, despite feeling like you would break down into tears at any moment, you managed to keep your nervousness from showing.

Interesting, he thought.

"That depends~... Did you do this of your own free will, or were you forced too? Oh, and. Don't bother lying. I can hear your sweet little heartbeat~."

#ara anon #skittle answers #triad au #lmk triad au #triad au lmk #triad au macaque #lmk triad au macaque #triad au macaque x reader #triad au x reader #lmk macaque #lmk macaque x reader #macaque x reader #macaque #lmk six eared macaque #triad au six eared macaque #triad au six eared macaque x reader

256 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 1 year ago

Text

Beskar Doll - Ch. 40: Offer

Moff Gideon puts a deal on the table. A continuation of Beskar Doll ch. 1-39 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 7.2k

Your first instinct was to grab your blaster and shoot. Which was stupid, for a number of reasons. One, he wasn’t really there. Two, there was no chance you would actually hit him and it would just get you killed.

But you wanted to shoot him anyway.

You resisted.

“Gideon,” you said, teeth clenched. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but that would be a lie.”

“Always so courteous,” he smiled a little at you. “What would the queen say?”

“About you?” You replied. “Aim for the head.”

There was no way to tell how close - or how far - Gideon was. He could be next door. He could be across the galaxy. You couldn’t know.

“As entertaining as it is to trade barbs with you,” he said. “I am reaching out for other - more advantageous - reasons.”

“Can’t see anything you’re involved with as advantageous,” you snapped. “So I think I’ll just be going…”

“Now Handmaid,” he said, his tone shifting from amused to irritated. “I can clearly track you down whenever I want. You can hide but I will find you. I will always find you.”

You ground your teeth.

“You were interested in the deal I was offering before,” he said. “The Mandalorian wouldn’t let you take it. But you seem to be more… reasonable. So, without him to interfere, I’m here to offer you something better. I recommend you take it.”

You walked back to the Crest in a daze. You didn’t bother to cut through the hatch and cross over rooftops, you took the main entrance. You stopped and said goodbye to Kiana, the bartender. Told her you wouldn’t be needing the room anymore, that your partner and yourself were moving on.

You made one last stop at the market on your way out of town. Some fresh food for Grogu to hold him over until you made it to the next world. Some more things to keep Grogu occupied on the data pad. It took you a minute to find, but you also got paper and a pen for yourself.

You sold the speeder and made the rest of the trip on foot. Din hadn’t parked too far outside the city this time, knowing you wouldn’t be there long. Just tying off a few loose ends before heading to the next planet, the next place where you could lie low.

Try to lie low.

Try to avoid Gideon. Try to keep him from getting at Grogu, try to keep him from killing Din. Maker, what kind of life was it for Grogu to always be on the run? To always be at risk of losing his dad? For Din to always need to be looking over his shoulder to keep his child safe?

Wouldn’t putting a stop to that be worth anything? Everything?

It had to be, right?

You spent the walk back to the Crest thinking it over. Trying to figure out what was the best thing to do. What was the right thing to do.

Grogu was rooting around in the sand on the beach as you approached, his tiny hands digging in. You could see something squirming below the sand, his large ears tucked low, his small face scrunched in concentration.

“Are you terrorizing things tinier than you?” You asked as you approached, crouching down to be on his level. He noticed you then, his ears lifting with his smile. He threw his arms up and toddled for you and you scooped him up, kissing his forehead as you held him close. You felt his small warmth in your arms, his squirming limbs. He started throwing his feelings at you. That he’d missed you, that he was frustrated about something. You pulled him back enough to prop him on your hip.

“What’s got you all frustrated bud?” You asked. “Is it that things aren’t just letting you eat them? Because I’ve got to tell you, that’s a pretty normal reaction…”

An image appeared in your mind. Not something you’d summoned - not something you’d lived. It was an image of Din working on part of the Crest, but from the child’s vantage point low to the ground.

It took you a moment to process it. He could show you images now, not just his feelings but whole images. He was getting stronger.

You couldn’t let Gideon get to him.

“Were you frustrated because your dad wasn’t giving you his undivided attention all day?” You asked him, pulling your braid over your shoulder. He took the end of it and put it against his nose before he made a face. You laughed a little.

“He’s been impatient today,” Din said from behind you, making you jump. “All set here? Everything went well?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Yeah we’re all set.”

He nodded, putting an arm around your waist and bringing his forehead down to your own.

“Tatooine?” He asked. “For a month, maybe two. See if we can’t build some good off-world contacts. Peli can help with getting a base built up there…”

“That sounds good,” you tried to smile. “Plenty of work to be found there, too, I’m sure…”

He stepped back from you enough that his head was no longer on your own.

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “I just… got more attached to Kiana than I should have. I’m going to miss her.”

He looked at you for another moment. You could feel his eyes going over you, feel that he didn’t quite believe you.

“Got some new data cards to keep this one entertained,” you said, desperate to change the subject. “And some food to keep us in his good favor while we’re en route. Because no one needs a grumpy Jedi.”

“Doll, if you’d rather stay…”

“No!” You said quickly. “No, I definitely do not want to stay. Tatooine will be nice. We should go.”

He looked at you again for a long moment, like he didn’t believe what you were telling him. He knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid. He knew you. Of course he could tell.

“We should get off world before something goes wrong,” you smiled a bit. “Because with us, something always does.”

He cocked his head at you before heading up the ramp and into the Crest. You let out a sigh of relief.

Step one, off planet. Far away from where Gideon knew you were.

You’d cross the bridge to step two when the time came.

You hadn’t realized that you’d been tense since seeing Gideon on the com link, not until Din put the ship into hyperspace and you knew there weren’t any Imperial cruisers orbiting the planet, just waiting for you to leave. It seemed to blend with his particular brand of cruelty. Tell you one thing, make you an offer, do the opposite. Just to toy with you. Just to prove that he had that kind of power. Because the suffering was the point.

“We can visit your home there, if you want,” Din said when you were both back in the hold. You were holding Grogu, going through one of the new data drives with him. “You can paint. I think you may need a break…”

“I’m fine,” you said, letting the baby manipulate a hologram of kitten. His eyes were wide as he looked the creature over, turning it this way and that. “Not that I’ll argue with a vacation but I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Doll.”

“Really,” you smiled. “I am. It’s just been a weird few months.”

Din was watching you out of the corner of his eye the rest of the day. You did some training, you worked with the kid on his Jedi skills - including hiding behind a crate and getting him to show you what he was seeing when you did. He got it almost instantly.

“I don’t know if it’s because it’s me and he’s been getting used to my mind so now he can do more or if he’s getting better,” you said as you and Din had dinner, you sitting in front of him with your back to him so he could take off his helmet. Grogu was on your lap, devouring one of the creatures you’d gotten him at the market that morning.

“Maybe both,” Din said. “You’ve been working with him a lot.”

“You can try too,” you said. “I know you do with a lot of the physical aspects of it but you can try the meditation parts, too.”

“Not the same,” Din replied. You closed your eyes, holding tight to the child in your lap, absorbing the sound of his unmodulated voice. “I can’t do what you can do.”

“It’s a lot more to do with him than me,” you said. “Trust me.”

You got out the whiskey after dinner and you and Din sat around the holochess board. Grogu was playing with the different animal holograms on your data pad, occasionally wanting to change whose lap he was sitting on and gleefully toddling across the board when he did, sometimes stopping to try to grasp the pieces and pout when he couldn’t actually get his little fingers around them.

“Canto Bight to Tatooine will be an adjustment,” Din said after making a move. Grogu was in his lap, a serious look on his little face.

“A bit,” you said. “Definitely more people on Canto Bight.”

“Besides the work,” he said slowly. “Did you like it there?”

You considered your next move for a moment before moving one of your pawns to capture one of his.

“I don’t really know,” you said eventually with a shrug. “The best part of it was always being back at the Crest with you or out hunting bounties with you. I didn’t spend much time in town that wasn’t meeting with bounty holders or running people down. It was pretty though. I liked the water…”

“We don’t have to stay on Tatooine,” he said. You frowned. “We can go somewhere else. If you wanted.”

“Tatooine makes sense,” you said. “There will be work, you already have contacts there. As far as I know, the Imps don’t know that either of us has ties to the planet so it won’t be the first place they look…”

“We can find somewhere else that makes sense.”

He moved a piece forward.

You frowned.

“Do you not want to go to Tatooine?” You asked.

“I don’t care where we go,” he replied. “But there’s something you’re not telling me…”

“Din,” you sighed but he continued.

“And if there is somewhere you would rather be, we can go there.”

“I want to go to Tatooine,” you said, meeting his eyes beneath his helmet from across the board. “Tatooine makes sense. I like the desert. I’m fine. Let’s go to Tatooine.”

You took the piece Din just moved with a well placed pawn.

“See?” You said. “So distracted you fell for my trap perfectly.”

After a moment, desperate to get some of the tension out of the air, you looked at him.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I got thrown off a tauntaun?”

He looked at you for a moment.

“No,” he replied. “You’ve never told me about the time you got thrown off a tauntaun.”

“Well, we were on Hoth and it was fucking freezing,” you said. “So we, naturally, got drunk…”

By the time Grogu fell asleep with his face buried in your chest, things felt somewhat normal. You tucked him into his little pod and took Din’s hand, tugging him along behind you to his quarters and turning off the lights.

“Cyare,” he said, tone cautious.

“What?” You draped your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his.

“What aren’t you telling me?” He asked.

“Is that really what you want to be thinking about right now?” You asked, voice rough.

“You haven’t given me another choice.”

You slipped your hands down the front of him, sliding your palms over his beskar to his thighs as you dropped to your knees.

“Cyare…” his voice was more strained. You could feel his eyes on you, your fingers near the fly of his flight suit.

“Din,” you looked up at him from your position on the floor. “Do you want me to stop?”

He groaned.

“No,” it sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth.

You smiled.

“Good.”

You unzipped him and slipped your hand into his pants, finding his hardening length and taking it gently in your fingers. You started soft and slow, moving up and down him until he was fully hard in your hand. You leaned in and pressed your tongue to his head, licking him in one long stroke before taking just his tip in your mouth and sucking gently.

“Doll,” he groaned. You hummed around him, easing his cock into you, sucking him harder, pressing your tongue into the bottom of his shaft until his head was lodged in your throat. “Fucking Maker…”

You moaned and you felt his legs almost give out when you did.

“Need…” He was panting, his gloved fingers tangling in your hair. “Need you to move…”

You obliged him, sliding back from him, keeping your hands on his thighs, until just the tip of him was left in your mouth. You licked and circled him with your tongue and his fingers dug into your scalp, straining to pull you back down onto him without forcing you. If you didn’t have his cock between your lips you would have smiled at making him quite this desperate.

“Don’t…” he groaned, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Don’t look so proud of yourself for barely listening…”

You looked up at him, knowing he could see you even if you couldn’t see him, and took all of him back in your mouth again, finding a faster, harder rhythm over him. His hand guided you, thrusting his cock deep into your throat, swallowing him past your gag reflex, pressing your tongue into him, sucking him hard.

“Going to cum,” he managed, just seconds before he did, when he was so deep you barely tasted the saltiness of him as you swallowed. Din fell forward and there was a thud as he caught himself on the wall behind you, panting for breath.

You released him from your mouth and wiped your spit covered chin on the back of your hand before the hand that had been in your hair slid to your cheek, tilting your chin up so you were looking up at him. You felt his eyes on you, searching your own.

“So pretty on your knees,” his voice was still strained. His hand went from your face to your underarm, pulling you to your feet. He tugged your dress off, casting it aside before pushing you onto the bed. “Prettier in my bed.”

There was the slight hiss of his helmet’s seal disengaging and the thud of the beskar meeting the surface of the shelf. You moaned in spite of yourself.

“Something you want, Doll?” He asked, voice clear and unmodulated, as more beskar found its way off his body.

“You,” you squirmed a little on the bed. He stepped forward, nudging your legs apart. You could feel his bare knee on your skin. Your heart picked up as he stepped between your spread thighs.

“Think you deserve that?” He asked, his voice suddenly close as his fingers traced over your wet heat through your underwear. “Hiding things from me?”

“Why…” you groaned, pressing into his touch. “Why would I hide things from you?”

“Don’t know,” he replied. “Know you wouldn’t betray me. Can’t figure out another reason.”

He tucked your panties to the side and touched your bare skin, making your breath stutter.

“But you must have one,” he brushed your clit. “Tell me what it is, Cyare.”

“It’s nothing,” you groaned. “Din, please…”

“Please what?” He breathed.

“I need you,” you keened. You were ready to beg for him if that’s what it took, you just needed him to touch you, just needed to feel him. For a moment, it felt like if you didn’t have him, you’d break with it. You needed something to hold onto, desperately. “Please…”

He kissed you, putting his hands on your waist and adjusting you in the bunk so you could lay below him. He nestled himself between your thighs, his hardening length pressing against your slit as one of his hands found your face, his fingers dipping into your hair and gripping your scalp, tilting your mouth for better access. His tongue dipped into your mouth, sliding over your teeth, your tongue, his hips pressing down into yours. You moaned into his lips, rocking your hips back against him, the root of his cock against your clit.

He pulled away from you just enough to slide your underwear down and off, casting them aside somewhere on the floor before aligning his body with yours. The head of him was notched against your entrance but not quite inside you when he took your face in his hand. You could feel his eyes on you even though you knew he couldn’t see you any more than you could see him, his helmet lying to the side of the bed. His nose brushed over your cheek and you reached up, running your fingers through his thick, lush hair - fuck, you’d never know the color of his hair…

“You can tell me anything, Cyare,” he breathed, his lips ghosting over your own. “Love you more than anything…”

He kissed you as he pushed inside you, taking you slowly and softly until he was all the way inside you, the burn and stretch of him easing the throbbing ache of need inside you. He pulled his lips from yours and pressed his forehead against your own. You shared his breath, acutely feeling every inch of contact between your bodies.

“I love you,” you were so full of him, he was everywhere over you and around you and inside you. “It’s nothing…”

You hated lying to him. You didn’t want to taint this with lying to him.

He kissed you and it was like he was everything and it pushed Gideon and his offer out of your head.

You let yourself get lost in him, let him swallow you whole. You wanted him to, wanted him to consume you. All the terrible things you’d done; everything good you’d ever caused; the overwhelming, endless love you had for him and for Grogu. You wanted him to take all of it from you, you didn’t want any of it without him.

He moved inside you slowly, forcefully, holding himself deep within you for a moment with each stroke. His mouth swallowed your whimpers as the hand that wasn’t in your hair found yours, lacing his fingers with your own. Your body tightened around his and he shifted, somehow going deeper, your clit pressing into him with every demanding motion. Your back arched and you pulled your lips from his as you came, crying out with the intensity of it.

Din buried his face in your neck, kissing and biting his way over you as he fucked you through your orgasm, his breaths ragged as his arms slipped below you, pressing you up against him. As you started to regain control of your body, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed up into him. He took the hint, pulling your body up with his own until you were straddling him, his cock still deep inside you.

“Cyare,” he moaned into your chest as you started to ride him. His arms caged you, fingertips sinking into your flesh, clinging to you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever touched. You started slow and aching, his hands guiding you, body already tightening so much it was starting to hurt. You kept trying to hold onto him, keep him deep in you, like you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go.

“Want to feel you,” you managed, whole body unbearably taut as his hold on you tightened, pulling you up and down him.

“Then let go for me,” he breathed against your throat. His tongue brushed your pulse point, making you gasp and your movements stutter. “Give it all to me, give me everything Cyare, just let go, I have you…”

He thrust up into you, so deep it made you cry out and you came again, his name on your tongue as you clutched onto him. He pulled you so close that your body was nothing but a line against his own and came apart inside you and your whole being was like a raw nerve, feeling every pulse within you, every inch of skin around you.

You panted for breath as everything flooded back into you as he held you close, your legs over his own, your arms looped below his, your face pressed against the top of his shoulder. Something in you cracked and you let out a broken sob into him. His large hands went over your back, smoothing your hair, holding onto you.

“Let me help you,” he said softly.

“I can’t,” you took a shuddering breath. “There’s nothing you can do, there’s nothing anyone can do…”

He pulled back from you just enough to bring your forehead to his own. Your tears dropped onto his cheeks.

“Tell me,” he breathed. “Please.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, luxuriating in the feel of it. You realized that there was possibly no one else in the galaxy who had done this, who had held him and touched his hair. You liked that you got to have things like that with him, that you had pieces of him the way he had pieces of you.

“Nothing to really tell,” you sniffed, trying to regain your composure. You tried to find something - anything - to tell him. “Just… Still hard moving around a lot. I had a home for a long time. It’s still strange not having one. I’m adjusting.”

“We can find a home,” he kissed you softly. “It would be good, I think. For you, for me, for him.”

“Yeah,” you kissed him. “I think it would. Some stability. Kids like routine.”

You held each other for a while without talking after lying down. You traced the planes of his face, trying to memorize what you could beneath your fingers. Finding everything you could to hold on to.

The next day, the three of you made it to Tatooine, Din landing in Peli’s hanger again. She came out to greet you before the ramp was even all the way down.

“Mando!” She called happily. “Stayed away long enough!”

“Been busy,” he replied, carrying Grogu with him down the ramp. The baby started stretching and reaching for Peli and Din sighed before handing him off.

“Still have your friend I see,” she raised her eyebrows at you suggestively. “So you may not be interested in what I’ve been puttin’ together for ya but I still think you outta have a look…”

Grogu squealed happily and she smiled at him.

“I know!” She said. “I think it’s been too long since you came to visit, too. He’s so smart Mando, should listen to him more…”

Din gave you a look and you smiled as the two of you followed Peli to her smaller hanger. She pulled a tarp off a Naboo starfighter. Your eyes went wide at it, instinctively reaching out to run your fingers over the chrome.

“Is that an N-1?” You asked, looking at Peli. She raised her eyebrows.

“Impressive,” she said. “Yup, this beauty came straight from Naboo but I made some… modifications.”

“Like what?” Din asked, walking slowly around the ship.

“Bigger laser cannons while keeping the torpedo launcher,” she said. “And don’t try to outrun this baby, I added a Kineso-switch for sublight travel AND she has hyperspace capabilities….”

“Did you keep the navigation the same?” You asked, peering into the cockpit. Din cocked his head at you. “What? I learned how to fly on Naboo ships, I like how they run…”

“Not great for traveling with two,” she sighed. “But if you wanted to take it for a spin, it doesn’t need much to finish her out and I could use the help.”

“I think you could use the test pilot,” Din said wryly. “But…” He looked to you, almost like he was asking for permission. You just shrugged. “I could help.”

Din was in his element working on ships. Part of you wondered - if it weren’t for the Clone Wars and the Mandalorians - if he would have been an engineer or mechanic. But that may not have satisfied him. And would have been a waste of his natural talent as a warrior.

But it would be safe. He could settle. Maybe be happy.

Grogu was eager to help, too, so the two of you stood off to the side, delivering tools on demand. At one point, Grogu tugged on Din’s sleeve and he slipped out from below the ship, watching the baby as he babbled at him.

“I’m not sure,” Din said after a moment of listening to him very seriously. “Go ask your mother.”

Grogu turned to look at you and toddled to you as quickly as he could, stretching up at you and it took you a moment to react, rooted to the spot.

Din had called you Grogu’s mother. And the child had known exactly who he meant when he used the word, immediately finding you.

You lifted him and held him close for a moment before looking in his eyes. Hunger. Of course.

“OK bud, heard loud and clear,” you laughed a little. “Snack time it is.”

You took Grogu to the market and let him pick some of the animals hanging on hooks at one of the stands. He devoured the first one before you’d even finished paying.

“Where does it even go?” You asked. He peered up at you and you wiped his little mouth with your thumb.

You’d never thought about being a mother. So much of your life had been based around serving and surviving, just getting through to the next minute, next hour, next day. After that, it had been too dangerous to consider being anyone’s anything, really. A marriage of convenience had made sense in part because the risk of loving someone was just too great. A child…

You’d thought of Grogu as your child for months now. That’s how you felt about him, it’s how you considered him and functioned with him. But it’s not a title you ever thought you’d have.

“You’ll watch his back, right?” You said as you walked back to the hanger.

“Patu,” he said.

“I mean it’s your dad’s job to take care of you,” you said. “And I know he will. But try to look out for him, too? And love him as hard as you can, OK?”

He cooed, his eyes meeting yours. He was worried.

“It’ll be OK,” you gave him a little squeeze. “I promise.”

Din took the starfighter for a test ride that afternoon and you held Grogu while you listened to him over the com, admiring the handling and the speed. You smiled a bit. He was like a kid with a new toy.

“Well?” Peli said when he got back, going to meet him. “I do OK? What’d you think?”

“Wizard,” he jumped out and came and took your hand, pulling you along behind him.

“What are you doing?” You laughed.

“Cockpit is big enough for two,” he said. “It’ll be tight but it’s a Naboo ship. You should take a spin.”

He took the baby and tucked him into the modified droid space before pulling you into the cockpit. He sat at the back, his legs wide so you could settle between them, your back leaning against his chest.

“Comfortable?” He asked. You tilted your head up so you were looking back at him.

“Enough for a short trip,” you smiled. “Beggars Canyon run?”

“Beggars Canyon it is.”

He took off and you admired the controls. Sosha had flown one of these. Dagres, too. Both of your brothers. It felt like a remnant of your homeworld there on Tatooine, the Mandalorian pressed against your back as he expertly manipulated the controls. You watched Beggars Canyon whip by before he pulled up and you were thrust back into him, the force of leaving the atmosphere pressing you into his body, the stars pinpricks on the horizon until you broke through and were surrounded by them.

“Wow,” you breathed.

“You take the controls,” he said gently. “Do once around.”

“No,” you shook your head. “Absolutely not, not with you and Grogu aboard…”

“Doll,” he said. “We’re free of the atmosphere, there’s very little traffic right now. Go once around and then I’ll land her.”

You looked back at him again and you could feel his eyes on you.

“If I crash us into something, know that it’s your fault,” you said, taking the controls.

But it wasn’t that bad. Din was right, there was very little traffic and you were able to take it at a fairly easy pace.

“Want to go around a little faster?” He asked. You looked over your shoulder at him. “I won’t make you but…”

You looked straight ahead, feeling him behind and around you.

“Once more,” you smiled a little and you could almost feel the pride coming off of him.

You opened her up a bit more this time - not nearly the speed Din was taking her at but more than your first lap.

“Good,” he said, his hands slipping over yours. “Let’s land her.”

You let him guide you, the steps feeling familiar but far safer under Din’s handling. He landed it easily in Peli’s hanger.

“See?” He said. “You can fly.”

“Never said I couldn’t,” you replied as the cockpit opened. “Just that I don’t like it. And that I’m bad at it.”

“Guess you’ll just have to travel with a pilot,” he said. You could hear the smile on his voice. It made your heart ache.

“Guess so.”

He made love to you soft and slow that night and you let yourself get lost in it one more time. After lying in the afterglow of it you convinced him to get dressed enough that Grogu could sleep between you. You moved him from the pod to the bed with his little groggy yawns. You grabbed your sedative ring while you were up.

Both Din and the baby drifted off not long after and you just looked at them for a moment, Din turning on a low light so Grogu wouldn’t be afraid of the dark when he woke up.

“I love you,” you said, your voice thick, your hand on the side of Din’s helmet, arm over Grogu. “I love you both, so much. And I’m so sorry.”

You opened the ring and pressed the needle into Din’s arm. He stirred for a moment before going limp. You carefully extracted Grogu from his arms and settled him into your place in bed. His eyes opened the tiniest bit.

“It’s OK little one,” you whispered and kissed his forehead. “It’ll be OK.”

You took the pen and paper you’d bought in Canto Bight and wrote a quick note before getting dressed. You’d decided to leave everything behind but what you were wearing. You put on a handmaid dress. It seemed appropriate. You locked down the ship on your way out.

You made your way quickly to the small hanger, the N-1 still fueled up and ready to fly. It was lucky, really, that Peli had rebuilt a ship that you were so familiar with. It felt worse, stealing from her, but if she knew the stakes, you knew she’d understand.

“Sorry, Peli,” you said quietly to yourself as you climbed into the cockpit. You started the launch sequence and took off into the night before anyone even noticed you were gone.

You jumped to Naboo space first. It was close and you knew the coordinates. You wiped all the drives while in orbit around your homeworld, the first time you’d been back in more than half a decade. The things you’d done in the name of this world, her people, the republic… You weren’t sure you’d ever know if it was the right thing to do or not.

Once you were certain there was no way to trace the ship to Peli and Tatooine, you put in the coordinates that Gideon had given you and set the jump.

The trip felt excruciatingly long. You couldn’t sleep and the streaking stars of hyperspace were little solace. Your heart ached. You wanted to go back. You wanted all of this to be some nightmare that you could wake up from, that Grogu would start to fuss and you’d wake up next to Din and one of you would go get the child, give him a snack and hold him between you until he fell asleep again.

You’d left your data pad behind - too risky to take it without wiping it - so you had nothing to do for the journey but let your mind drift. You thought about everything with the Mandalorian. Every time he’d touched you, every holochess game, the hike up the mountain to show Grogu snow for the first time. You braided your hair in a Naboo style to keep your hands busy. You remembered the first time you met Din, how wrong you’d been about him then. How much you’d both almost fought to hate each other before it was obvious that you never could. The way he sounded when he laughed.

You would miss all of him so much it hurt. But saving him was worth hurting.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been traveling when you came out of hyperspace. You had to guide the ship the last few hundred clicks, turning on an open com link as you did. It didn’t take long for you to get an escort, two TIE Fighters pulling up alongside you.

“State your name and clearance code, N-1,” one of them ordered.

“I don’t have a clearance code,” you said. “I am Solme Arvell, Handmaid to the former Queen of Naboo and wanted by the Empire for war crimes. I am here to surrender to Moff Gideon.”

Gideon, to his credit, met you in the hanger, flanked by stormtroopers - well armed ones.

“Handmaid,” he smiled down at you. “Glad to see you can listen to reason.”

“They’re safe?” You asked. “You won’t look for them anymore, you’ll leave them alone?”

“That was the agreement,” he replied, still smiling his cocky smile. “I’m almost sorry I won’t get to hunt down and kill… what is he to you? The Mandalorian?”

“Nothing now,” you said as a trooper stepped forward to cuff you.

“I suppose not,” he said. “It was smart, taking the deal. Just in case you were having doubts.”

“I’m sure you think anything that benefits you is smart,” you replied.

“I do enjoy getting what I want,” he nodded. “But I can appreciate someone who is intelligent enough to recognize when something of value is on the table. I think we can both be… well, maybe not satisfied but fulfilled in this agreement.”

He jerked his head toward a trooper who started to haul you away.

Part of you relaxed as you were led to your cell. It was done now, nothing left to agonize over. Not that you’d struggled to make the decision. That part had been simple.

“You are a smart woman,” Gideon had said via hologram. “You understand when something is at risk and you understand when a threat isn’t empty so let me be very clear. Hand over the child or yourself and I’ll make you a deal. In exchange for the child, I won’t hurt you or the Mandalorian. You can go about your lives without looking over your shoulder for the Empire. I’ll even make sure my compatriots leave you alone. Want to return to Naboo? You can.”

“Not happening,” you snapped, about to leave.

“I thought you might not be so willing to do that one,” he said. “Given your… work history. But I have another option on the table. Surrender yourself to me and I will let them go. I will stop looking for them, find a way to make my operation work without the child. I’m close to that, anyway.”

“Why?” You demanded.

“What’s in your mind is valuable,” he replied. “When we retake the galaxy, having as much information about the rebellion and the new republic as we can find will help us ensure we succeed this time.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to just hand over rebel secrets,” you scoffed.

“No,” he replied. “But we have ways of finding out once we have you. The deal isn’t contingent on you talking, just on your surrender.”

You narrowed your eyes.

“If you don’t take either deal, I will make it my personal mission to destroy everything you have ever loved,” he said, voice darkening. “I’ll start with Din Djarin and the child. I will allocate every resource I have to hunting them to every corner of the galaxy and I will make you watch as I slowly, painfully take them apart piece by piece. You think I found you quickly this time? Wait until I make it my sole priority.

“You have one week to decide, Handmaid,” he said. “My assistant has the coordinates. Meet me there or the hunt truly begins.”

You were confident that they’d kill you before they got any useful information out of you. And you’d let them. If it was at the hands of some clumsy interrogator who didn’t understand how to read someone, it probably wouldn’t even take long and Gideon would have no one to blame but himself. Hopefully, that would be enough to protect Din and Grogu.

The cell you were brought to was far from comfortable but you’d been in worse, and your stormtrooper escort was kind enough to uncuff you. You stretched out on the metal bench that served as a bed and drifted off, pretending you were back on board the Razor Crest, waiting for Din to wrap himself around you in his bunk.

***

Din felt like he’d been hit by a mudhorn.

He was groggy, his head spinning like he’d polished off a full bottle of whiskey on his own the night before. But he hadn’t been drinking. He eased his eyes open, blinking slowly. You weren’t in bed with him but Grogu was.

And Grogu was clearly not happy. Din’s arm was oddly sore in one spot, like something had stabbed him, and the child was shaking him - or trying to - hard.

“Hey,” Din’s voice sounded odd. Scratchy, hazy. He sat up, slowly. “Where’s your mom?”

The baby babbled incoherently, pointing at the door, looking frantically between Din and the doorway. He frowned, easing himself out of bed.

He tried to go through what might be making him feel like this. The day before had been normal. Made it to Tatooine, helped Peli finish the build out on the N-1, took it for a test run, had dinner with you and the kid. Fucked you and felt so good he wanted to freeze time right then and there. You insisting on getting the kid after so he’d had to put his helmet on. And now you weren’t in bed…

“Let’s find her, OK?” He said, tucking the child against his side. He went to open the door but it wouldn’t go. He tried again.

He frowned, checking the panel. The ship had been put on lockdown, requiring an access code to open any and all doors. His stomach knotted. He entered the code and opened the doors.

“Doll?” He called, switching his helmet to heat sensor mode. There was so sign of you in the hold. He moved for the cockpit far faster than usual.

“Doll?” He yelled. There was no sign of you.

He raced down the ladder to the cockpit and ran to the galley.

“Doll!” He was damn near screaming now. “Answer me!”

The fresher was empty. So was the carbon freezing chamber.

“Cyare!” He yelled, looking around him. Like you’d somehow found a way to trick his sensors and were going to step out from wherever you were hiding.

The child made a nervous sound from his side. Din changed his settings and held him in front of his face.

“Is she here?” He asked. “It’s OK, Grogu. Just tell me, did you mom leave the ship?”

He made a sad sound and looked toward the ramp.

“She’s off the ship?”

Grogu made a small, worried sound.

“OK buddy,” Din said. “We’ll find her, it’s OK.”

He ran for the ramp and keyed in his code, not willing to wait for it to open all the way before running down it.

“There you are, Mando!” Peli said, her arms out in exasperation. “Someone stole the N-1 overnight, can you believe that? It wasn’t even done for a whole day and it was in the hanger…”

“The N-1?” He asked.

“Must have made it look too good on your trip through Beggar’s Canyon yesterday,” she sighed before looking him up and down. “You must have been up late last night, you slept late enough…”

A Naboo fighter. One you’d asked about the navigation equipment on. After you’d been acting strangely for more than a day.

“Here,” he handed the child to Peli and ran back inside the ship.

“I can’t just babysit all day, Mando!” She yelled as he went inside. “I have a life you know!”

He ignored her. You wouldn’t have just left, there’d be a sign….

Your bags were still in the corner of the ship he’d come to think of as yours. He went and looked at them and you frowned. You’d left your weapons behind.

Maker, you’d left your weapons…

“Dank farrik!”

He started frantically looking through the ship. You wouldn’t just leave him, you wouldn’t, there would be something…

Din saw it then. A piece of paper - something so rare anymore - folded up on top of the table in the galley.

Your handwriting was familiar, like an old friend. He’d spent enough time poring over your letters he knew it well. His hands shook as he picked it up and unfolded it.

It wasn’t long.

“Din,

“Please know that this was the only way. Know that I love you and Grogu more than I knew it was possible to love anything. Take care of each other. You should be safe now. Be happy.

“- Your Doll”

“No,” he read it a second time. Then a third. “No, no, no…”

You were gone, you’d taken a hyperspace capable ship and left. He didn’t know where you’d gone, why you’d left, how he was supposed to survive let alone be happy without you.

He just knew one thing.

He was going to find you. If it was the last thing he did, the Mandalorian was going to find you and he was going to bring you home.

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

59 notes · View notes

raccoonfallsharder · 6 months ago

Text

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. part two. pennsylvania. ohio. indiana.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 2/6 | word count: 806.

rocket appreciates the turnpikes. the heroes discuss music, memories, and state-of-the-art tech.

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

“What’s this place?”

Wanda glances over at Rocket from behind the steering wheel. He looks like a child: sitting on three hardbound textbooks the Hulk had dug out of somewhere, legs swinging casually over the edge of the chair. He’d spent the first two hours fussing with his seatbelt, muttering about how Terran transport vehicles are deathtraps before either satisfying or resigning himself.

The car is currently gliding through a twisting crevasse, cut deep into old mountains. Outside, the spring thaw is melting snow into little waterfalls that cascade off the manufactured cliffsides, carefully funneled away from the road. A sign warning of rockslides floats past. The trees are budding and there are little pink and yellow sprays of wildflowers peeking through the patches of grass.

“The Pennsylvania Turnpike?” Wanda offers uncertainly.

“Huh.” The Captain of the Guardians of the Galaxy — down from six but up to three — swings his feet again. She can see his face reflected in the passenger window. His ruby-flecked, bourbon-brown eyes glow, wide and thoughtful. “It’s kinda pretty.”

Wanda blinks at the road ahead.

“You like music?” Rocket asks, feet still swinging.

She cants another sideways glance down in his direction. “I do.”

“What kind?”

She lets out a huff of air — almost a laugh. It feels strange. It’s been a while. About five years, actually. “Sokovian rock,” she tells him archly. “Some metal.” She raises a brow at him. “You know Sokovian music?”

Of course, she already knows the answer.

Still, he’s looking at her with nothing but open intrigue. “No,” he says frankly, and his eyes are hungry. “You got some?”

It’s not quite the response she’d expected. She tries to remember the last time anyone other than Vis had asked about — home. Had wanted to share her memories, know her life.Had wanted to hear the music she’d grown up with, and listen to it together.

Only Pietro, she thinks.

“No,” she says quietly. “I haven’t got anything.”

Rocket’s not sure how this planet goes from lush mountain forest into the flat nothingness of the Ohio Turnpike, but it does. As far as he’s concerned, this only confirms that every good thing on Terra has to be followed by a bad one.

And also, what the fuck is a turnpike? It doesn’t register in his damn translator.

Still, Cleveland’s not terrible when they stop for food — there’s some little cafe where they can eat outside, though Rocket’s surprised the witch doesn’t want to go in; it’s still kinda cold out for a baldbody, afterall. But it’s a good break in the monotony — especially before they start driving through an even more boring region that Wanda tells him is Indiana.

Thank fuck he’s got something to tinker with now, though.

He’d chewed on her response to his question about Sokovian music for a while. It had sounded like a sentiment that had lived in his own head for years — I ain’t got nothin’ — and he hadn’t even realized the sound of it had faded until he’d stood at the edge of a dead star and pretended to be some kind of captain.

I could lose a lot. Me, personally — I could lose a lot.

Then he’d asked Wanda if she’d had a zune.

The witch had blinked. “I — no. Nobody has zunes anymore.”

He’d scoffed. “I do.” He’d pulled Pete’s zune from his pocket and wagged it at her. “State-of-the-art music-portation and listening device,” he’d taunted, and something in the corner of her mouth had flickered.

“Most people use their smartphones nowadays,” she’d said — and her voice had been sort of mild instead of flat, which he’d counted as a win. “They’re a little newer,” she’d added apologetically. “Better tech.”

He’d dipped his head and stared at the zune. For some reason, the words had felt like a bruise in his heart, and he’d scrubbed his knuckles against his metal breastbone. “Better, how?”

She’d glanced at him again and shrugged one shoulder. “Faster. Sleeker. They hold more data, and they can access the Internet. Make calls, send texts. All sorts of things.” She’d shrugged again.

He’d dug his knuckles in hard to his sternum, trying to relieve — or maybe counterbalance — some of the pressure there, and he’d stared down at the zune. “This was Pete’s.” The words had come out before he’d been able to drag them back. He’d never intended to say them in the first place.

The witch hadn’t said anything, and he’d slid his tongue over the front of his teeth, then had cast a sideways look up at her, trying to keep his face nonchalant.

“Those smartphones ain’t got more than three hundred songs on ‘em though, right?”

Her eyes had flicked to him, then back to the road. “Oh, absolutely not,” she’d said, so confidently that he’d immediately felt smug. “Fewer, I think.”

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist prev | next | main masterlist

13 notes · View notes

techsbrowneyes · 2 years ago

Text

I need hope for a happy ending in season 3, so I’ve been writing a lot of fluffy one-shots centering around this happy ending. It’s one of the ways I cope. Enjoy!

Summary: The Bad Batch decides to play matchmaker. Their targets: Phee and Tech.

Title: Matchmaking

Word count: 2,291

Crosshair could only say one thing about Tech right now, and that was how oblivious he was when it came to the female race. For someone as intelligent and as astute as Tech, he certainly wasn’t either when Phee Genoa was around.

Take this morning, for instance. Crosshair had watched as the two of them passed by one another, Phee looking hopeful for a greeting or a smile, Tech too buried in his blasted datapad to notice. If you asked Crosshair, his brother had an unhealthy addiction. Had Tech been a child, Crosshair would have taken the datapad away from him.

He decided he’d have to step in. Tech just needed a little push, that’s all. One little push. If that didn’t work, there was absolutely no hope for him. None whatsoever.

Crosshair decided the best way to go about this was to convince Tech it was a research assignment. His brother loved those. He’d spend hours researching one topic until he knew every little detail, every fact. He was probably on a mission to be the smartest intellect in the galaxy. Good for him, but it certainly wasn’t helping his love life.

Or maybe Crosshair could employ a little trickery. That might work, too.

He brought up his idea to the others when Tech wasn’t around.

Hunter looked skeptical. “You want to play matchmaker?”

“Awesome!” Wrecker said. “I’m in. What do you need me to do?”

“I don’t know about this,” Echo grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t like butting in on the private affairs of others. It’s none of our business whether or not Tech and Phee decide to pursue a relationship.”

“But they’re perfect together,” Omega argued. “Don’t you want Tech to be happy?”

Crosshair nodded. “I agree with the kid.”

“I second that,” Wrecker said.

Echo looked over at Hunter, imploring him to see reason. Hunter simply sighed. It was clear to him which battles he could win, and which he couldn’t, and Crosshair was determined to have it his way. They had all been through so much suffering. It was high time they worked on bringing a bit more happiness into their lives.

Starting with Tech and Phee’s budding relationship.

Hunter folded his arms over his chest and nodded at Crosshair. “What’s your plan?”

Crosshair hadn’t gotten that far. He’d been convinced he’d receive resistance from Hunter. He hadn’t counted on his older brother’s support, which he knew was needed now if they wanted to pull this off without Tech catching on.

“I know,” Wrecker said, saving him from having to answer. “We make it seem like we need help with something. We lure the two love birds to a nice spot with good views and let the sparks fly.”

“I think that’s a great plan,” Omega said excitedly.

“Someone just needs to get that blasted datapad away from Tech,” Crosshair said. “It’s a distraction.”

“That’s like taking a toy away from a child,” Echo said. “It’ll never work.”

“Want me to break it?” Wrecker suggested, cracking his knuckles eagerly.

“No,” Hunter and Echo said simultaneously.

“I’ll hide it,” Omega said. “I’ll hide it so good he’ll never be able to find it.”

Echo shook his head. “The more we discuss it, the more ridiculous this plan sounds. Face it, kids. It’s never going to work.”

“That’s how much you know!”

Echo raised a brow at her, but didn’t respond.

Crosshair flicked his toothpick at him. “If you’re so smart, why don’t you come up with a plan?”

“Because I don’t want to meddle, that’s why.”

Hunter scrubbed a hand over his face. “Let’s just forget about the whole thing, all right?”

Echo nodded at him. “Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

He turned and left the rest of the squad standing there. As soon as he was gone, Hunter cleared his throat, gaining everyone’s attention.

“Now back to the plan,” he said, grinning.

Omega pumped a fist in the air. “All right! I knew you were on our side, Hunter.”

***

Tech stepped down from the Marauder and was bathed in warm light from the setting sun. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the glare. After being inside the dark interior of the Marauder all day, he had to adjust to the new lighting.

He now considered the ship to be in perfect functioning order. He’d run a full diagnostic on all systems and made a few needed adjustments, then kept busy doing other small repairs just to keep the boredom from creeping in.

This quiet life was going to take some getting used to. During the war, he’d always had tasks and missions to keep his mind and hands active. Having settled on Pabu with the squad, he found he no longer had to devise elaborate strategies and calculate odds.

He also found himself thinking about Phee a lot, and he just didn’t know what to do with those particular thoughts. She was lovely and confident. When she was around, he was reduced to a stammering idiot who couldn’t think of one coherent thing to say to her.

So Tech had resorted to avoiding her. He knew his behavior was akin to that of an adolescent boy, but it saved him from uncomfortable situations he’d rather not have to face.

At times like this, he wished he had more confidence when it came to women. Hunter and Wrecker certainly had it. Hunter didn’t even have to try. He naturally oozed that physical masculinity that appealed to women.

Tech heaved a sigh. He wanted to ask Hunter for advice, but he didn’t need yet another thing to be embarrassed about.

He glanced up from his datapad and saw Crosshair coming towards him. Tech found it odd that his brother was smiling. Crosshair didn’t seem to do much smiling now, not since they’d rescued him from Mount Tantiss. Tech was suddenly suspicious.

“It isn’t healthy, you know,” Crosshair said in lieu of greeting.

“What isn’t healthy?” Tech asked.

“How much time you spend by yourself on the Marauder or with your face buried in that blasted datapad.”

“I hardly consider myself alone. If I were to activate my comlink, I would no doubt receive an answer from one of the squad.”

“Want to make a bet?”

“A bet,” Tech repeated, finding the notion ridiculous. They both knew who would win said-bet and it wasn’t going to be Crosshair.

“Yes,” Crosshair answered. “If you win, I will leave you to whatever it was you were doing. If I win, you give me that datapad. Go find something to do that doesn’t involve research or thinking.”

Tech considered it, then agreed to the terms, but only because it was a harmless bet and he considered it important to keep up Crosshair’s morale.

“Deal.”

Crosshair nodded. “Excellent.”

Tech activated his comlink. “Omega, this is Tech. Come in.”

No answer. This puzzled him because Omega always answered him.

“Wrecker, do you copy?”

Still no answer.

He glanced over at Crosshair, who was smirking as if he found the situation amusing.

“Go on,” Crosshair said, gesturing with a hand. “Try Hunter.”

Tech tried again. “Hunter, no one else is picking up,” he said. “If this is a game, I am not amused.”

No answer.

“Don’t bother trying Echo. He’s busy.”

Tech, being the good sport that he was—despite the very obvious fact that he’d been played—reluctantly handed his datapad over to Crosshair.

“I am not sure what is going on here,” he said indignantly. “But please be aware that I require my datapad back by tonight. I cannot sleep without it.”

Crosshair tucked the datapad under his arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back.”

Tech wasn’t reassured. His comlink pinged and he activated it. “If I had been in trouble, your delay in returning my call could have proven fatal to my life,” he said dourly.

“It’s Omega,” came Omega’s voice. “I need help fixing something, Tech.”

“Where are you?”

“Down at the docks. Can you please hurry? It’s an emergency.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He considered wrestling his datapad away from Crosshair, but thought better of it. He stalked past him and took the path leading down to the docks. He muttered under his breath all the way, scheming up ways to get his siblings back without appearing childish. He knew he could come up with something far more elaborate than their poor excuse for a prank. Of all the rotten things to do.

Tech soon arrived at the docks, but he didn’t see Omega anywhere. It was possible she had gotten impatient and left, or the problem had been solved without him. Perhaps Echo had attended to it.

“Fancy seeing you here, Brown Eyes.”

Tech’s heart started pounding in his chest at the sound of her voice. He turned to find Phee standing there, one hand resting on a cocked hip. There was an amused twinkle in her eyes.

“I was told by Omega that she required my assistance and to meet her here,” Tech explained.

“Huh. What a coincidence. She told me the same thing.”

“I am beginning to think it isn’t a coincidence at all.”

Phee chuckled. “You know what?” she said. “I think that girl’s trying to get the two of us together.”

“Actually, she isn’t the only one,” Tech said. “I believe she is in league with the others.”

Phee moved closer to him. With nothing to occupy his hands, he suddenly wished for his datapad. His hands were sweating now. He swallowed, his nerves closing in on him, threatening to shake his composure.

Phee pointed a finger of accusation at his chest. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, that isn’t . . .” Tech sighed. “Yes, I was avoiding you,” he admitted. It was no use lying to her.

“Okay, then.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Any particular reason why? You didn’t go and meet another pirate now, did you? Don’t tell me. I bet she’s beautiful.”

He felt his ears go hot. “No, of course not! There is only one pirate in my life, and she is very dear to me. However, I am unsure as to how I should convey my feelings to her. My mind ceases to function at its normal capacity when she is near.”

Phee’s gaze softened. “I know you care about me,” she murmured. “I was only teasing.”

Tech was feeling bold now. He pushed on before he lost his confidence.

“I admire both your beauty and your integrity, Phee,” he said. “While it baffles me that a woman such as yourself has chosen a man like me to bestow her affections upon, I will endeavor to return your affections to the best of my abilities, and—“

Phee placed a finger over his lips, shushing him. “Don’t try so hard, Brown Eyes. I like you just the way you are.”

Tech was so surprised by her touch he froze, his eyes widening.

“Just do one thing for me. It makes it difficult for me to pursue our friendship when you avoid me like the plague. Just a simple smile or a greeting every once in awhile would satisfy me.”

“I believe I can manage more than a smile,” he said, then boldly captured one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles.

Phee seemed surprised by the gesture, then pleased, if the broad smile that touched her lips was any indication. Tech took this as a good sign. He pressed her hand against his chest so she might feel his heart racing in reaction to her nearness.

“Can I kiss you?” Phee asked softly. “On the lips, I mean . . .”

Tech had never been kissed before, but he was eager to find out what it might be like. He nodded, letting her know he was willing.

Slowly, gently, Phee took his goggles and raised them away from his eyes. Her face became blurry, but that didn’t matter. He closed his eyes as she draped her arms around his neck and closed in the gap between them.

Then she kissed him, slow and gentle. Tech didn’t know how to respond at first, but then he allowed his instincts to guide him. He drew Phee into his embrace and returned the kiss, enjoying it very much. It was just as nice as he thought it would be.

He made up his mind, then. Kissing Phee was much better than having his face buried in a datapad.

***

Omega came running into the Marauder, where Echo was sulking in a chair. Wrecker and Crosshair stood on either side of him.

“You can give him back his comlink,” she told them breathlessly. “The mission was a success!”

“What happened?” Wrecker wanted to know.

Omega leaned in like she was about to share a big secret. “They kissed!”

Wrecker made a face of disgust. “Is that all?”

Crosshair snorted. “What did you think they’d do, stand there and stare at one another?”

Echo snatched his comlink back from Crosshair. “Was taking away my comlink necessary?” he groused.

“If we hadn’t, you would have ruined the plan,” Wrecker said.

Hunter entered the ship, a broad smile on his lips. “The love birds are taking a stroll now,” he reported.

“Oh, so now we’re spying on them.” Echo paused, then asked, “What else?” like he was eager to hear a juicy bit of gossip.

“They’re holding hands.”

“That’s so cute!” Omega said.

Echo grabbed a pair of binoculars from his kit and headed for the hatchway.

Hunter folded his arms over his chest. “And just where are you going?” he asked, trying to bite back a smile.

“Birdwatching,” Echo replied, before hurrying on his way.

#star wars bad batch #tbb #the bad batch #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tech the bad batch #phee the bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #hunter the bad batch #wrecker the bad batch #omega the bad batch #tech/phee #tech x phee #pheetech #thee #pheech #phee x tech #tbb fanfiction #phee genoa

145 notes · View notes