#medpack thoughts

[raccoonfallsharder]

Presumably Rocket has never used a medpak before Vol 3 which could be seen as a plothole but I think the better answer is that he never needed to, he's never been that close to death before, that's how badass he is

look I’ve put a LOT of thought into medpacks with no clear outcomes lol. thanks for sending this ask so i can finally sit down and process through all my too-many ideas about them lol (seriously! this was a great ask and a lot of fun to think about thaaank you)

short answer: i agree. my guy is a fuckin genius at evasion and survival. but... i also don’t know what our rate of comparison for medpack-usage is? i’m fairly certain we don’t see many (any?) medpacks before vol 3. for all we know, they get used pretty rarely in general. maybe almost none of the guardians have had to use one before, because they’re all survivors - the luckiest of the unlucky, or vice versa.

i say this because i suspect medpacks are intended to heal major, life-threatening, emergency trauma - not cuts and contusions, not things that aren't emergencies - and we actually haven’t seen the guardians in those situations tbh. until v3, they’ve come out of every fight with scrapes, or (relatively) minor injuries that can heal in time. plus, access to medpacks (especially while actively cavorting around the galaxy) may be limited, and if you have three medpacks on a ship with a five-person crew and won't be able to restock for at least another six missions, nobody wants to be the asshole who uses a medpack for bruised ribs when, two cycles later, you end up with three teammates who are bleeding out.

(as an aside: i think the only reason mantis uses the medpack in v3 on herself is because in this particular scenario, a busted-up noodle-arm is an emergency. they are in the middle of an unexpected attack on their home turf and they don’t know why, rocket’s almost dead, and mantis needs to be able to perform at her best to protect herself, her friends, and the people of knowhere. i suspect a painful case of the noodle-arm gets in the way of peak performance.)

this all leads me to add that i think crewmates want to avoid using medpacks for more delicate injuries even if they are readily-accessible. like, if drax cuts his hand off while trying to juggle his daggers, the medpack would heal his stump - but doc glirgoth on the next planet over might be able to reattach it with 98% return on strength and sensation within two cycles, as long as the guardians can get drax to him in the next rotation or so.

now. i also think rocket has probably sustained some emergency life-threatening injuries before, especially when he was newly-escaped from halfworld. however, i think he learned how to do almost all his own first aid thanks to his years alone and his brilliant mind, even if a lot of his efforts are clumsier than a trained healer might be able to provide. like, you know at some point, this guy got sliced up or shot at pretty bad, and he probably could have used a medpack but didn’t have access to one. rocket for sure has ended up passing out while stitching himself up, at least once. even when he does have access to healers, he's not gonna use 'em - not only because he refuses to set foot in medical centers (ttttrauma), but also because he has so many unique things going on in his body that he’s had to figure most of it out on his own. like. there isn’t a single medical holotext in the galaxy that can comprehensively cover his physiology. a healer would need at least a grasp of basic mammal biology and medicine (even this can be hyper-complicated) and probably a few different types of engineering as well. so no to the healers and med-centers: not only does rocket not trust strangers with his body, but they also couldn’t possibly be expected to know what they were doing.

finally, i also think it’s possible that he has used a medpack before in emergency situations for non-vital, non-synthetic, non-trademarked organs. i kind of think a medpack on his crushed, biologically-given femur wouldn’t trigger his killswitch the same way a medpack on his heart, lungs, or brain would. i haven’t studied up on medpacks enough to REALLY know how they interact with rocket (if there's anything definitive out there), but i doubt all organs and structures are linked to the killswitch and if they haven't been tampered with too badly, the medpack may still work on them.

i mean, fundamentally, you’re right. it’s unlikely rocket has used a medpack before because he is that good, but they’re also complicated tech we don’t fully understand and i think that allows them to be less of a “plot hole” than others might think. or at least, they are plot holes so artistically constructed that i can justify them lol ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ♡♡♡

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Where the Wild Things Are - Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen: Daughter

Plot: Wild men or monstrous infected creatures, the world is wild and ravaged by Cordecyps but some are raised in it and flourish becoming a wild thing.

Word Count: 4.2K

Pairing: Joel Miller x Platonic!Teen!Reader, Ellie Williams x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: canon-typical fighting/violence, comfort, harsh language, tw: description of intense injuries, trauma from abusive mother, description of child neglect/abuse

—————

They keep sayin' that I ain't nothin' like my father But I'm the furthest thing from choir boys and altars If you cross me, I'm just like my father I am colder than Titanic water

Joel felt his heart so far up in his throat as he and Tommy rode off towards the cabin just like all those months ago but for a different reason. He wasn’t sure what they were going to come upon. Then gunfire fills the air, sending a chill down both Millers’ spines, spurring their horses faster. When Red appeared out of the blue Tommy quickly wrangled the creature as Joel speeds ahead. He didn’t know what those gunshots meant but he only hoped he would still find you breathing. The dense forest opens up to the large clearing where the cabin resides, Joel snaps the reins harsher on his horse to send him flying over the hillside. He only got seconds to take in the still-destroyed cabin, two dead bodies, and you on your knees with a pistol against your head.

“Y/n!” He screams right as you pull the trigger, it seems like a blur seeing you drop to the ground and he lands harshly on his feet as he dismounts his horse only one thought in mind. You were dead he watched his daughter kill herself. Until he sees you roll over and start crying in pain he sprints seeing you try and reach for the pistol but he kicks it far away. You’re caked in grime and blood but the side of your head has a deep graze blood pours steadily from it. Joel rips off his flannel pressing it to the side of your head as you cry out in pain but sadness.

“You’re okay baby girl. I got you,” He mumbles holding you in his arms. You try struggling against him your ears ringing in from the damage caused to them and the wound on your temple.

“Why!” You cry and he holds you to his chest as you run out of energy. Tommy appears over the hillside unlike Joel having more time to process the scene. Your mother’s mutilated infected body and his stomach churn at the violent death, Lila lays by the pond blood still flowing steadily from her head the water turns red, and there is his brother and it seems like they are back years ago seeing his brother clutch the body of his niece. Tommy walks closer ready to pull Joel away from the sight but practically falls over grabbing his knees to calm his racing heart. Joel soothes you tears in his eyes as you cry into his chest, part of the flannel pressed to your head damp with blood and tears. You were alive.

It seems like hours of the three of you being in the field Joel soothing you until you passed out from exhaustion. Joel peels back the flannel seeing the clotted wound, it is a deep graze but he would rather it is that than you dead.

“Joel,” Tommy calls out and he looks away from his daughter, “We shouldn't be out here long,” Joel nods knowing they would have to return to Jackson but he was too worried that if he moved you were going to slip away.  Tommy rises to his feet.

“I’ll…I’ll go take care of the bodies,” Tommy has a troubled look on his face having to bury more of the dead especially ones so close to you and technically them as family.

“Thank you, Tommy,” Joel says his voice gruff but there is still a shakiness to it. Tommy leaves to start preparing the graves as Joel finds your pack lying nearby searching and pulling out a medpack. It’s a shoddy job and those at the clinic with their ever-growing injuries would make sure you’re properly taken care of. As he wraps the bandage around your head he can’t help but wonder is this exactly how Tommy felt? Tommy had been the one to find him, he made him flinch and miss. He found no reason to keep going on after Sarah and that’s how Tommy found Joel with his pistol against his temple taking the easy way out. It seemed like a blur of Tommy fixing him back up, the gunshot had made him go deaf for a bit so he couldn’t hear Tommy yelling at him with tears in his eyes as the two brothers cried and mourned together. Did he feel the fear of seeing that sight, hearing that gun go off, and praying they missed and weren’t about to continue in the world without them?

Tommy returns the bodies buried in the dirt, not the best or proper graves but a shallow one given they are both infected. Tommy brings the horses over slinging your pack over Red before letting Joel climb onto his horse. Tommy helps lift you to Joel who holds you across his lap, one hand holding the reins and the other around your waist to keep you close. Once Tommy mounts his horse with Red attached with a lead they leave the cabin in the dust. Joel glances back at the ruined cabin the only thing left there is the dead and horrid memories now.

A faint ringing wakes you up squinting at the bright light coming from the stained windows. The ringing never leaves as you groan at the pain in your head feeling like your skin is very tight. Footsteps come over to your right side, and you hear something muffled. You listen to them move once before speaking from your left side.

“Y/n can you hear me?” They call out and you turn in their direction seeing it’s one of the women who works in the clinic. Your whole body aches as you try sitting up but she quickly rushes to settle you back down. “You shouldn’t be getting up, your injuries are still healing.”

“Don’t touch me,” You glare at her getting to the point of sitting up, her hands hovering over you to make sure you don’t fall over or feel faint. Both your arms are covered in bandages, your left arm down to your palm, while your right arm has a splint around your thumb keeping it from moving. Your stomach aches and you feel something wrapped tight around your midsection. Your hand lightly traces your stomach over the clean shirt you’re in…the faces of your mother and Derek grins as they dig cigarette butt after cigarette butt into your flesh. The mutilated body of your mother flashes behind closed eyes and memories of the pond. Of Lila’s warmth, her smile, her smell, picking flowers as her mind was being eaten away. Her small body lies in the dirt as the blood feeds the earth and the water.

That’s how Joel and Tommy find you with your knees to your chest a hand clutching your stomach the other in your hair as you cry into yourself. Since returning to Jackson hadn’t dared move from you even as the doctors worked on you late into the night with the multitude of other patients. It wasn't until the sun rose again that Tommy found him still in that chair watching your chest rise and fall with each breath. Tommy practically had to drag him out of there to clean up and get some food.

“She isn’t going anywhere and plenty of people are looking over her,” Tommy pleads until Joel ultimately agrees but only for a shower, food, and a force power nap that Tommy tried forcing but the general exhaustion from the events Joel was out. When Joel awoke the brothers quickly returned to the church converted into a larger clinic. That’s where they find you amongst other folks who rest or are being treated as you cry, the young nurse looking unsure how to assess the situation. Joel quickly weaves through the people and draws you into his arms. He feels you flinch but settle into his arms still muffling your tears and cries, he glances at the nurse who points at her right side.

“She’s partially deaf in her right ear from a ruptured eardrum,” She says and Joel nods the lady taking that as her cue to leave as Tommy quickly takes her spot. What fucking irony that his daughter ends up just like him. Joel presses a kiss on your temple right over your stitches that match his own.

“It’s going to be okay babygirl…I got you,” he says and you can get fractions of what Joel says but hear him say ‘I got you’ and you’ve never felt more safe and comforted by those simple words.

It seems everywhere in Jackson haunted you with memories. The stables you found comfort in now filled you with dread, the alleys you preferred over the main streets only filled you with memories of fighting for your life through them, the playground outside the Tipsy Bison lay barren, reminders of children's laughter filled your ear imagining them playing and enjoying themselves. The streets were still stained with blood though diluted by water and rain that washes its way slowly but the iron smell wouldn’t leave your nose. The harsh dirt is pressed against your cheek as you’re shoved against the ground. The struggle in your fading as you lay there for what you assumed were only fleeting moments. The street sign of Connor’s Drive sends chills down your spine when you see the house on the corner, the phantom voices and pain ghost over your skin from the months of suffering in that home.

The blackboard stares back at you as you sit in Tommy and Maria’s living room the names and dates written on it mocking you. ‘Kevin 4/3/00-9/29/03, Sarah 7/20/89-9/27/03, and Lila 2021-5/13/25’. It felt morbid the only thing left of her was writing on a board alongside Maria’s son and another name you don’t recognize. During your time living there you never really asked about the memorial, it wasn’t your place. The melting candles flicker as if someone blew at them, maybe they were here. Her spirit forever haunts you, sinking her claws into her killer’s flesh until you soon meet your fate. Whether by another’s hand or your own.

“Hey kid,” A voice comes to your left side and you jump slightly turning to see Tommy looking a bit tired. It was still weird not hearing from your right side. Permanent hearing loss they said, they had hopes since you were young it could heal but they didn’t have the technology to help with that. Not that you cared anymore, the loss and the scar that graces your temple are a reminder of your failures. Tommy holds up your pack,

“Was able to get all your stuff from,” He cuts himself off suddenly not wanting to say that place in fear of your reaction. You just nod as he comes over placing the bag at your feet. There is still a smoky smell from the fires and the smell of iron off it flecks of blood still stains parts of it. Was her blood embedded into the fabric? You glance back at the board at the thought and Tommy silently watches you.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he starts, “That we added her…I thought it would be a good thing to remember her…to remember all of them.” He grows quiet from the closeness he held to it.

“Who’s Sarah?” You ask. It was a name that was on the memorium of your sister, you felt you had a right to know who else would remain with her. Tommy grows quiet.

“Uh, that’s���Joel daughter. Your sister.”

You laugh. A bit morbid and probably insane to Tommy watching you start laughing at the news but you couldn’t help but find the irony in it all. A macabre reunion of sisters. With only one still living though in shambles while the others are together in whatever afterlife there is. So you laugh until you hunch over to hold your head with your elbows on your knees. You hiss forced to sit up grabbing your stomach and Tommy takes a concerned step forward.

“Come on you need to change your bandages.” Tommy holds his hand out and you don’t fight it allowing him to help you up before leading you to the clinic.

The reformed clinic was quiet given the events that occurred. Most people who were injured were either minimal or threatening enough to be put on bed rest. Many families were displaced by the fire and damages so the chapel became a sanctuary for others taking people to their homes.

“They’re healing nicely given the placement would be harder,” The doctor says while applying a thicker ointment onto each burn. Tommy stands to your left while you keep your gaze straight ahead not daring to look down. “I won’t lie these will scar similar to the ones on your arms but with proper treatment, they will be less noticeable.” His words go in one ear and out the other. These were with you forever. Despite your mother rotting she will forever be with you cause of her doing. Your family’s doing impact all those in Jackson because of your actions. Once your stomach is wrapped he allows you to lower your shirt before checking over your thumb in the splint and the stitches.

“I would recommend trying some movement exercises to regain some of the mobility but nothing too strenuous and no work that would require using that hand. I or anyone in the clinic should be able to remove your stitches in the coming days.” He says before looking over at Tommy, “If she keeps her injuries clean and takes her meds she’ll be good in no time,”

Tommy thanks the doctor as he leaves the room to get yourself situated. You stand in front of a mirror your finger lightly traces the stitches across your right temple. You spot him in the reflection a sad expression on his face.

“You didn’t have to stay Tommy,” You comment looking at him through the mirror as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Course I did, you’re family kid,” It still felt weird hearing that. When they tried including you in spending time together in the past was met with so much restriction and fear unaware you were all related to begin with. He and Maria were your aunt and uncle, Ellie your technical surrogate sibling, and Joel.

“How is Joel,” You ask and he looks away at the sensitive topic. The last time you saw him was when he and Tommy found you crying in the church/clinic holding you tight to him whispering promises to you. To take care of you, that he wasn’t going to be like her. Then with that, you were dumped as Tommy and Maria’s responsibility wasn’t the best impression you wanted from your long-lost father but you know why he did. The fear that came from everything, the world ending, your tense relationship to start, he wasn’t sure if you even wanted him in your life. So he pushed you away to protect you. You still saw him around when you did get out of the house or when he came over to see Tommy. It was weird like he treated you with politeness and respect but as if you were acquaintances or neighborly kindness not that you were his child. His flesh and blood.

Tommy coughs nervously, “He’s as good as any of us can be. He asks about you sometimes.” That surprises you. He wonders about you even after giving you away?

“What do you say?” It felt wrong asking for more but you were curious what your father wished to know when you just lived down the road.

“That his daughter is wondering why the hell you don’t talk to her,” You smirk at his answer that he knows you would feel. You don’t realize he comes over until he rests a hand on your shoulder, “Joel…he’s a complicated guy. He might be seen as some gruff unapproachable guy but he’s got scars that still haven’t healed. He’s never good at the whole confrontation thing.”

You laugh but can’t help but agree.

“It’s a lot to process, hell I’m still processing I’m related to you,” Tommy scoffs with a laugh, “But he cares even when you both weren’t on the best terms he did. Maybe something deep down he knew you were someone to protect without knowing you were his kid.”

You’re quiet returning your gaze to yourself in the mirror taking in your features. It seems more evident the similarities you share with the Miller brothers especially the older one. Did Joel see Sarah in you or were you two so different? Most likely. You picture her as kind-hearted and soft while you are cruel and rough.

“Come on. Let’s get heading before Maria has our heads for being late for supper.” Tommy jokes and you roll your eyes at his antics before following after him.

Dinner is nice with the two adults and baby as the sun starts setting and you finish drying off the last dish. Tommy fusses over Liam while Maria wipes the table clean. Since the clinic, there was a request on your mind to ask them a bit apprehensive of their reaction.

“Tommy…Maria.” You get their attention as you stand there the rag to dry dishes being picked at from nerves, “Can I go and see Joel?”

The two have surprised looks at the request and you see Maria give a soft look over at Tommy before she goes over to the wrapped dishes of leftovers.

“Come help me make a plate.”

The cool spring breeze has the trees swaying as you hold the large covered plate making sure to keep the weight away from your splint. You hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the peaceful nights in Jackson and find solace walking towards Rancher Street. The porch light was off and inside the lights were all off making you frown. Was he or Ellie home or maybe they were asleep though it wasn’t that late at night. A melodic noise comes from your left as it fills the night air coming down the porch and starts trailing around the house only getting louder as you draw near. The sweet noise comes from Joel as he plays the guitar his hands steadily plucking the strings making music and mouthing along to something.

The loud creak from the step makes Joel freeze when he spots you instantly sitting up from his lax position.

“Hi.” You say and it’s quiet between you two before he responds.

“Hey.” His eyes flicker over you and you see his shoulder slump in relief seeing you unharmed.

You raise the plate slightly, “I brought food for you and Ellie, Maria had extra leftovers so I thought to bring you guys it.” He nods still in a bit of shock processing each word.

“Ellie isn’t here, she’s at a sleepover with Dina,” Joel says and you nod rocking on your heels. He immediately gestures at the table beside him, “Here so you don’t strain your hand.” You move across the porch placing it down before standing there a bit awkwardly with Joel looking a bit uncomfortable as well.

“How are you?” You ask and he perks up at the attempts of small talk.

“Good…I’m good. How…How are you feeling?” It’s a stupid question Joel already knows the answer. How would anyone feel finding out their whole life was a lie, their mother trying to kill them, learning their real father, having to put down their infected sibling, before killing their infected mother, and then trying to kill themselves?

“Alright…I’m doing better with…everything.”

Joel nods mumbling, “That…That’s good.”

“Tommy’s making sure I’m taking my meds, eating enough, keeping myself busy.” You pause before adding, “Just stuff fathers do.” Your comment hits hard and he flinches slightly looking away unable to face you.

“Joel,” He refuses to look, “Why have you been avoiding me?” Too many overwhelming self-harming thoughts take over.

“Is it cause I’m my mother’s kid? I know having Ellie is a lot and adding another is already a hassle enough. I know I’m not Sarah and—” Too many thoughts take over each growing worse and worse.

“Kid no,” Joel stands up grabbing your shoulders and making you look up at him. His face is conflicted but you see sadness in it, “Just let’s sit.” He guides you to sit before doing so himself. He sighs resting his head in his hands before looking up at you.

“I didn’t expect to have you,” His words send a dagger in your heart, “I’m not saying I’m not happy though. After Sarah I thought it was over then I met Ellie and Christ she could’ve been my blood if I wished it enough. Then you came along.” You see his hand grab the broken watch he always wears.

“Christ you were a pain in my ass,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a laugh, “I wanted nothing to do with you. You were dangerous in my eyes I didn’t notice how much you were like me. But I saw in your behind that aggression and bitterness just a girl, a child in this fucked up world. So I wanted to protect you, like I protect Ellie…like I protected Sarah. I saw you more and more involved until your mother came back and it felt like I lost that chance all over.” The look on his face is vulnerable as he picks at his nails and a flash of anger crosses his face.

“I would’ve ripped you out of the house so fast if I could…how you cried seeing them. Knowing what they did and failing at stopping them, I knew you would’ve only hated me more if I did.” He grows silent, “When I realized you were mine I was scared out of my fucking wits. Seeing you lay there on that ground ready to die I felt like I failed you. I could’ve fought harder so you didn’t have to go through that loss. If I could have gone back all those years ago and stayed with your mother with the knowledge I know now I would’ve done it in a heartbeat. If I meant you never dealt with the pain she put you through because I failed you all those years ago.” His eyes are glossy and you don’t realize yours are as well. Joel takes a shaky inhale reaching over and thumbing away a stray tear that’s fallen down your cheek.

“That’s why I pushed you away. Gave you to Tommy and Maria to take care of you better than I ever could’ve. I’ve already failed you too much to think you’d want me in your life. How could I call myself your father if I only caused your suffering.” He sounds so defeated having accepted the reality he would only be a ghost in your life. To watch you grow up, and live your life from the outskirts.

“I always wondered who my father could be. As a kid, I dreamed of the kind of man he was, that one day he’d come back into my life and everything would be perfect. It was only when I got older I grew to hate the idea of one and my mother only fueled it. He was a sleaze who left, abandoned a pregnant woman in this world to raise a child, a bastard father for a bastard daughter.” Your finger traces your sleeve where the scar lies underneath the fabric having memorized each placement.

“It felt wrong knowing all these years to put a name to a face. Made my fucking skin crawl to see what I was missing all this time. Part of me that kid still desperate to know who their father was felt betrayed by Derek,” You laugh slightly, “You know I thought every time I spent with him, ‘Why couldn’t he be a better man against my mother? Why couldn’t he protect me like Joel would?’ Ironic isn’t it?” You hum.

“I want you a part of my life Joel,” You admit and he looks surprised, “It kills me seeing you look right through me or treat me like anyone else in Jackson. It will kill me if you treat me like Tommy’s responsibility instead of your daughter.” His eyes are red, tears long spilled at your confession.

“I want to be your kid Joel,” You say before growing hesitant, “If you’ll have me?” He nods quickly rubbing at his eyes.

“I’d like that.” His voice is thick with tears and you smile through unshed tears as you look at Joel, your father. Wiping the tears from your face glancing at the instrument that was the only witness of your conversation.

“Do..do the offer for those guitar lessons still stand?” You ask and a smile covers his face as he reaches over to grab it.

“Yeah, they do, kiddo.” He passes the instrument to you and you try mimicking the way he held it himself. It was a bit weird, especially with the splint on your hand against the top of the guitar.

“Okay use your first three fingers to press,” He guides your fingers to a specific position as you lean over the body to watch, “there now use your other hand to strum.” You do as you’re told and slide your fingers down all the strings a crisp nice sound comes from it. You look at at Joel with an excited smile on your face seeing his own softer prouder look on his.

“You’re a natural, just like your father.”

Where the Wild Things Are Tags

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More Tagged in comments

[eveenstar]

heii!! ^^, can you make another hoodie x reader one-shot? i've come to love ALL of your scenarios ,, left me wanting more :D

if you don't want to do this... well! thats fine, i'd understand! ^^

maybe... hoodie's hurt? and reader cares for him?

hurt, as in, wounded! like, knife stab or something!

thank you,

take care

One injured Hoodie coming through! This was interesting to write. Hope you enjoy! Sorry it's short. Take care! ♡

your blood in my hands (and I wouldn't have it any other way) | Brian Thomas/Hoodie

tw: reader's gender isn't specified. Obvious blood mentions, nothing too gory.

Beneath your hands, Brian lays as still as a rock. He doesn't flinch from your touch, not after the last three reprimands you muttered under your breath. It was odd enough that he let you tend to his wound, even more that he actually listened to you! Then again, there was a bullet wound on his body. Thankfully, it hadn't punctured any organs. Still, you were surprised someone had managed to survive long enough to shoot him.

Ah, well, Brian wasn't a young man anymore. He was closer to his mid forties than his mid twenties.

And with the number of Americans now possessing guns as if it were candy? Tsk. That was bad for business. Brian's business, that is.

"That's enough." Brian uttered, pulling himself up to his feet - and almost sliding back down onto the blood-stained chair with a frustrated hiss. "Fuck.."

"You lost too much blood." You sat back, rummaging through the old medpack. Living with a stalker-killer "employed" by an eldritch being, far away from any civilization, had forced you to take on skills such as cleaning wounds (of any kind), sewing and cooking with the bare least you had.

You sighed. "I thought... Why did you take on such a mission alone? Why not take a lesser one with you?"

"It is what He asked of me."

The words fell off painted in tones of melancholy and numbness. There was no trace of emotion behind them, like a corpse. If it wasn't for his beating heart or the living blood that stained your hands, you would've thought Brian was as much of a dead man as those that fell to his hands.

Resigned, you closed the medpack. "Then you should tell him that you are not allowed to go on any missions that aren't scavenging for information."

For the first time that morning, a hint of emotion reflected on his eyes. Raising an eyebrow, a wheeze of laughter escaped his lips. "Allowed?"

"Yes," You mimicked his expression. "You care for me, I care for you. That was our deal."

"Our deal," Brian leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his knees. He bared his teeth at you in a low hiss, "did not include you bossing me around."

Still mimicking him, you too leaned closer until the tips of your noses were grazing each other. "Consider our deal emended."

For the briefest of moments, you thought Brian would lash out, pull you away as he always did. When his eyes narrowed, you prepared yourself for the worst. Your gazes met, and you hoped to see the man behind the walls Brian built around himself. You had his blood in your hands, but you didn't have his heart. No, his heart already belonged to something far above you.

Far darker.

The flicker of his gaze to your lips did not go unnoticed. You were close enough to smell the iron-blood in his skin and feel his breath mixing with yours. You believed Brian would kiss you right then and there.

Instead, he stood to his feet with unprompted strength. With a low rumble, he said, "Your skill with the needle has improved."

You assumed that was his way of thanking you and acknowledging your efforts. One, for removing the bullet. Two, for cleaning the wound. Three, for stitching it. You huffed lightly; Brian should be thankful you didn't take advantage of his altered state, stumbling bloody upon the kitchen at early sunrise and take him out of his misery right then and there.

Then again, you doubted you could take a man of his size and strength even when injured. A deep but low voice whispered in the back of your mind that that was not the only reason; you were in this with Brian. There was no turning back. Surely, no one sane enough would happily remain in your position.

Maybe you two weren't so different after all.

[thatonefanficwriternooneknows]

Corrie Week Day 3: “You shouldn’t be here”

Started writing this yesterday cause I’m spending most of today driving to get to our art class and then art class 😂

And there’s a lot of free time between Halloween shows ;)

As requested by @somestorythoughts ;) thanks for the brain worm!

“Really Commander? What in the kriff did you get into this time? Why is blood pouring from the seams of your kute?”

Hex rushed into Fox’s office, already swinging his medpack off his back and opening it for easy access. He slid it across the floor to the bunk Fox thought he didn’t know about.

“Hex? You…you’re not supposed to be here.” Fox wheezed out, chest hitching with each gasp of breath he took. Clearly a broken rib or two.

But Hex was more concerned about wherever that much blood was coming from.

“I’m the kriffing CMO and you’re injured. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” Hex scoffed as he pushed Fox towards the bunk, carefully starting to de-shell his patient as he did.

Fox tried to stop him, but his arms were so weak Hex could push them away easily as he carefully placed the bloody armor out of the way. (A clear sign something was really really wrong. Even through all the haran that Coruscant has put them through, the ration cuts, the natborns, the GAR’s hatred, Fox remained the toughest shabuir the Corries had. The fact that Hex could easily push him way was a bad kriffing sign.)

“Let, let me rephrase then,” Fox gasped out, groaning as Hex pulled a little too hard on his kute when removing it from the gaping kriffing wound in his chest, “you shouldn’t be here.”

Hex growled at the stubborn di’kut and dug in his med pack one handed to get out the pre-portioned hypo, priming it as he brought the needle to Fox’s neck.

Of course the absolute besom knocked it out of Hex’s hands because he’s a self sacrifice kriffing moron.

“Fox, I swear to every holy and unholy deity I’ve ever heard of, including you, that if you do not let me give you this pain reliever I will tie you down and make you take it.”

Fox weakly glared at Hex, but bared his neck a few moments later, obviously realizing he wasn’t going to win against Hex.

“Good vod.”

Hex was then allowed the rare view of the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant Guard flushing a fetching scarlet.

“Kinky…” Fox’s voice slurred a little as the pain relief kicked in and Hex let his tense muscles relax slightly as Fox started to slowly blink at him.

“It is quite similar to the last time we were together, isn’t it? Could do without the blood and clearly life threatening injury.” Hex snarked, trying not to get distracted by Fox’s bare tits when there was a gaping kriffing wound right below them.

(He was a simple vod, and Fox was stunning even when beat to haran and bloody as kriff.)

“Wish it was more like that…”

“Oh? Want to let me order you around again, commander? Let you turn off your scheming brain for an hour or two?” Hex talked slowly while getting out the surgical thread and needle.

“Mmmm. My favorite…part of the month, Hex.” Fox breathed slowly as Hex started stitching the gash closed.

His commander was a kriffing awful patient, but he knew how to breath the right way when Hex had to stitch a wound on his abdomen up.

“I thought that was when Quinlan surfaces from the lower levels and kidnaps you for a day or two.” Hex laughed under his breath at the stank face Fox made at him.

“Why the kriff-”

“You can’t fool me, Fox, that trash tooka lights up your life.” Hex tied the surgical thread tightly, snapping it carefully and putting the excess away.

“Just like…Prost and…Hetic do…to yours.”

Hex scowled.

(The downside to knowing Fox for so kriffing long was that the bastard knew just as much about Hex and he knew about Fox.

It was a very equal relationship.)

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” When in doubt, deny it out.

Fox laughed lightly before coughing some bloody spittle onto his chin.

Of course there was internal bleeding.

“I need to give you a bacta injection, Fox.” Hex was already reaching for the scarce necessity, keeping an eye on Fox so the madvod didn’t try and knock it out of his hands again.

“No.”

“It’s cute that you think I’m giving you a choice. You have internal bleeding, you besom.”

Fox, of course,

[ruinedbylanadelrey]

Just imagine Reader taking care of Din’s injuries after he was in a big fight and got lots of cuts and bruises on his chest and back. Of course it starts to turn intimate and Din wants some, but Reader reminds him he’s hurt. It would be steamy, sweet, and funny all at once.

Like You Do | Din Djarin x f!Reader

"You're the one I can't lose, no one loves me like you do" - Joji, Like You Do

summary: Din comes back to the crest hurt and her heart just breaks at the sight of her strong Mandalorian crumbling to his knees. warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, descriptions of blood, cuts, and needles, his name is din not djarin (i'm sorry he is 4ever din<3), razor crest lives forever, mando'a use, no grogu, reader is so in love with, din is a simp, mando's helmet comes off (i'm sorry), sexual tension, touching, groping, kissing, din begging to be fucked AN: I have had this request in my drafts forever because i kept re writing it so here is the final product. I want to clarify that Din Djarin is my #1 man, i know it's shocking because I write about Joel mostly. But Din is my soulmate and I'm a little embarrassed to share my thoughts about Din. Like my room color scheme is grey, silver, and black I re did my room back when The Mandalorian came out. That's my little secret<3 anyways enjoy my little fantasy<3333 masterlist

translations: cyar’ika- darling, beloved, sweetheart Udesii- "take it easy" Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum- "I love you/I know you forver"

Din could feel the sliced skin stretch with each step he took, all he could smell is blood, blaster smoke, and sweat. His breathing was uneven and his body trembling when he made it to the crest, falling to his knees as he heard your sweet honey voice calling out to him.

"Din! Maker! I don't know where you're bleeding from!" You slide to your knees taking the large Mandalorian into your arms, laying him against your chest, your hands working quickly removing his armor except for his helmet. His flight suit was torn on his left side at the waist, his flesh gashed, red bleeding into the meat of his skin. He needs bacta but the hard stuff. 

Din said he will only use it if you were the one hurt; your mind replayed that whole argument when you guys finally gave in and fell through the thin wire of tension cutting it when he thrust himself into your hot core.

You asked him, 'Why can't we use it on you if it ever comes down to it?'

'I will do whatever it takes to keep you alive...you're the one I can't lose.'

You scoffed at him and just spat 'So I can lose you and feel the exact same pain you would feel for me'

'You're so much stronger than me in every single way, cyar’ika' Din chokes up and it broke your heart seeing be so emotional. He was a cold-hearted person until you came along as another recuse he collected. You brought your sunshine and melted away the winter in his heart. 

The movie in your head clears when you grabbed the needle of bacta and pinched his skin near the gash and pushed the medicine into his muscles. Din's screams were so visceral and his hands grip your thighs, bruising them to a deep purple. "Udesii! Udesii!" You cry out as you throw the empty syringe across the hull.

His body jolts while the bacta runs through his body, you composed yourself and grab the medpack pulling out the field cauterizer. You laid him on his right side while you fused his skin back together. Burning flesh filled the air making your bile come up your throat burning it and leaving a sour taste in your mouth, your hands slick from sweating and his blood. 

Din going limp and taking shallows breaths submitting to you saving him. You wiped your hands on your pants and laying him on his back, you sobbed as you cupped the cheek of his helmet with your hands.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum" Din strangles to say holding your wrist in his hand, pressing your hand closer to the beskar. You collapsed on top of him, your body jerking from the hiccups and sobs leaving your mouth. Din wraps his arms around holding you like a child holding his favorite toy close so it won't leave his sight. 

"You're so dramatic, little girl" Din takes a deep breath and laughs it out. You craned your neck to him without his helmet. You quickly turned away, you panic and guilt slamming into your heart. "I want you to see me, cyar’ika" Din grabs your chin and tilts your head where your eyes are burning into his brown eyes.

You swallow as your eyes dance around his face, taking his eyes, the scruff on his face, patchy in a few spots, his mustache bringing attention to his plump lips, so pink and kissable. 

"You were crafted by the maker, din" You trace his nose with your fingertip, taking in how his skin feels on yours. "Kiss me, little girl, please" He whimpers while you thumb over his bottom lip. The need in his voice made you ache between your thighs. You carefully straddle his waist and bring your lips to his, Din sits up groaning while he licked in your mouth, his hands exploring up and down your back, his hands grabbing your ass and squeezing so hard. 

You gasp and moan "Din...you're h-" he cuts you off and bites your lip. He grabs your hand and places it on top of the outline of his hard cock. "C'mon baby, let's fuck," his words entice you as you tighten your grip around his clothed length, and he winces and whimpers and you remembered you're the stronger one and need to stop this so he could rest.

"Din, no you need to rest," he kisses your neck and bites at the thin skin. "Little girl, let's have fun..." That damn name made you want to say screw it. "Let's sleep, I'm tired and you have to be too," You helped Din to the steel slab that he calls a bed and lays down holding out his arms for you to be his human-weighted blanket. 

"We will talk about the bacta when we wake up" Din mumbles as sleep takes over him and relaxes with you on top of him. 

[omegafett99]

Whumptober day twenty

Whumptober 2024 - day 20 - Prompt: “it’s not your fault”

“Hunter!”

Hunter woke up with a start, Omega!

“Hunter! Wake up! We’re here!” He heard Wrecker call from the cockpit right.

It had been 5 months, 2 weeks, and 5 days since Omega had been captured, and they were going to every place they thought Hemlock might be, they were now going to Florrum, he knew it was unlikely, but he wasn't taking any chances.

Hunter swallowed back a sob as he thought about his lost Daughter, Wrecker must have seen him because he started to say

“You know, this is ’Gonna be the one!” always optimistic, Hunter sighed, this planet had as much of a chance as the last 99, He couldn't bear the thought that Omega was going through everything he promised wasn't going to happen.

He thought about everything that had happened since Plan 99, and anger bubbled up, and, in a blind fit of rage, he yelled in anger and punched the hard durasteel interior of the marauder.

Hunter gasped in pain and swore under his breath, cradling his hand

“Sarge!” Wrecker exclaimed and rushed over to look at his quickly bruised hand, grabbing the medpack on his way, he made him sit down on the nearby bunk and cut a piece of gauze.

Hunter winced as Wrecker tightly wrapped his hand in the white bandage

“Sorry,” Wrecker muttered.

“Don’t be, you didn’t make me punch the wall” Hunter assured him

“Yeah bu-“Wrecker.” Hunter interrupted “It’s not your fault” and Wrecker knew that he wasn’t talking about his hand

“I’m supposed to be the strong one” Wrecker whispered 

“I’m supposed to protect you, I was supposed to protect THEM” Wrecker looked away, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Let’s just scout the area and see what we find” Wrecker stood up and briskly walked away and Hunter sighed, he knew that Wrecker blamed himself even more than him, and he was determined to not let his Brother drown in his grief.

@kybercrystals94 @heidnspeak @dreamsight73

[silverwings22]

Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 71: Hush Little Baby- Ashley Ryan

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness Chapter warnings: major injury, medical procedures, canon divergence, tears because this is three years of watching and writing this fic and it's over. Final chapter.

Previous chapter:

“Take care of the troopers.” Miria gave her new friend dryax a pat on the nose and pointed it in the direction she spotted Imperial soldiers moving. It roared and took off, buying her time to get back to her squad and taking out a few more enemies they could save plasma on. She found them crouching against a fallen log, Hunter administering a medpack to Wrecker while Crosshair looked through a set of binocs. 

“Did you really think wrestling that creature was a good idea?” Crosshair muttered, trying to see through the shake in his hand. 

“At the time, yes.” Wrecker grumbled. 

Miria hopped over the log and landed next to her husband, all of the clones reaching for their weapons until they realized it was her.. “He’s sorry about that, by the way.” 

“You talked to it?” Crosshair looked at her, letting her bring his trembling hand back down and hold it between hers. 

“Yes. Remember when I told you I was a little unbalanced in the Force? I think I’ve fixed it.” She looked up at the base in the distance.

“It’s five klicks away, and we’ll still need to find a way in.” Hunter sighed, helping Wrecker to his feet. 

Miria glanced back at Wrecker, her jaw tightening under her helmet. He was hurt, she could see his bloody injury through the rent in his armor. The dryax’s strength was no joke. “Wrecker…”

“I’m fine, Miri. Don’t look at me like that.” He waved her concerned voice off, and started trudging after Hunter. Miria and Crosshair exchanged looks, but followed quietly. 

“They captured Rampart.” She said softly. 

“Good. They can keep him.” Crosshair muttered. “They know we’re here, and that we’re coming for Omega. He can’t tell them anything they don’t already know.”

“He was… extraordinary unpleasant.” She agreed. 

“Your kindness is wasted on that bastard.” He sighed. “... you know how dangerous this facility is.”

“I was trapped here too, love.” She nodded. She could feel his thoughts racing, and she had to settle her own and hope he didn’t decide he needed to do something stupid. He was guilt-ridden, had been since she’d gotten him back, and she’d have to keep an eye on him when they ended up in danger. Because they definitely would.

The five klicks between them and the base they both were dreading going back into went faster than any approach she could remember, and they all stopped to check the area. Wrecker was flagging behind, and Miria winced slightly as Crosshair looked him over. “He’s going to need another medpack.”

“That was our last one.” Hunter sighed. 

“I’m fine.” Wrecker argued. 

“No you’re not. Change of plans.” Crosshair straightened up. “You two fall back and comm Rex for assistance. I’ll go in on my own.”

“Not happening.” Hunter snapped immediately. “We don’t operate like that.”

“Open your eyes. Clone Force 99 died with Tech. We’re not that squad anymore. Wrecker’s in no condition to do this. I know this base, I know what we’re up against. If we all go in, not all of us are coming out!” Crosshair’s voice was sharp, right fist clenched into a fist at his side. “It has to be-”

“Stop.” Miria, just a pace behind Crosshair, took her helmet off. “Look at me, Crosshair.”

The sniper turned around, prepared to argue with her beskar but not her lavender eyes. “Miria…”

“If you call Plan 99, then I will take it. I will go in, and you will stay here and comm for help if Hunter and Wrecker have to drag you to a safe perimeter. Unless you can look me in the eyes and tell me you’re okay with me sacrificing myself, don’t you dare ask me to be okay with you doing it.” Her breath was a little too fast, eyes glassy at the thought of Plan 99. Just saying the words made her feel sick. “I didn’t survive a war, Order 66, and this hell just to end up a widow.”

“Omega needs them. Mayrin needs you… and I deserve this, Miria.” He tried not to look at her face, but she just stepped closer so he had nowhere to look but at her. 

“If you do, so do I. I’m the leader, every failure was mine. And I didn’t catch Tech on Eriadu. Now answer the question, darling. Am I calling Plan 99 in your place?” 

He pulled his helmet off, and his eyes were misty despite the stoic hold of his jaw. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then don’t ever ask me to watch you do it again.” She put her hand on his chest plate. “If we go down, we go down together. We don’t leave our own behind.”

Hunter nodded, almost wanting to clap at how well Miria could handle Crosshair. She always had been able to see right through him, and anticipate what he needed to hear. 

Before Crosshair could say anything else, or even try to apologize, the base hangar door they were facing exploded outward. He and Miria shoved their helmets back on, and Miria started laughing darkly. “It’s the Zillo from that shuttle crash! It’s escaped!”

Crosshair stared at the giant creature that he was almost entirely sure had been killed on Coruscant during the war. “... Echo’s handiwork, or Omegas?”

“Omega.” Wrecker, Hunter, and Miria all said at once.

The giant reddish, angry creature was decimating units of Imperials, and Hunter nudged Miria. “She gave us an entrance.” 

“Yes she did.” Miria nodded. “That’s our girl.” 

The group moved in for the hangar, moving slowly with their blasters out. Miria froze, an icy feeling moving up her back. “Guys. Something’s off… like Teth.”

“Get low.” Hunter muttered. “If we haven’t been spotted, we might need you hidden. We’ll keep moving in.”

Miria nodded, carefully moving behind cover and approaching along the wall of the hanger instead of the center as the clones did. She felt her skin prickling, but settled into the curve of a broken shuttle chassis the Zillo had destroyed. Once they were inside, they’d signal her and she’d come in after. 

To her horror, a pair of legs walked past her hiding space. She had to stifle a noise as she recognized them. 

On her stomach, bleeding into the sand. The inside of her helmet smelled like blood as he walked away, her screaming daughter in his arms. Her little pink stuffie was on the ground, Mayrin’s chubby hands reaching back for her. 

Mayrin. Mayrin. Omega. He’s got my girls. 

She swallowed hard and talked herself through a mental kata. No, she couldn’t fall apart, but she had to pay attention. She had to complete the mission and find the girls. She knew the risks. So did the guys, and they’d agreed to do this together.

In silent horror, she watched more of the assassins stepping out. Their armor were all subtly different, making recognizing the one who’d stolen her daughter and Omega easy. And they were brutally effective. One with an electrostaff had Wrecker pinned, Hunter knocked out with an explosive and trapped under debris. Her stomach clenched, fingers moving towards her lightsaber. There were too many, could she even hope to-

Stay put, Miria. Crosshair’s voice through their bond ordered. They’re not going to kill us. Not right away, anyway. You can’t get captured too. You’re our only chance.

Crosshair was on the ground, and her stomach dropped when the one she recognized, the one who took Mayrin, pinned his wrist with a foot and held out a hand to another assassin with yellow electroblades. The sword, an dishonored version of a lightsaber, was placed into the same hand that had put a knife between Miria’s ribs. “You should be more careful with your shooting hand.” He said, deadpan, and lifted the blade.

Crosshair!

Miria shoved her hand into her helmet and shoved her hand over her mouth to stifle a shriek as Crosshair screamed. Her right wrist burned in agony, a ring of red and inflamed skin popping up almost instantly as some of the injury was shared through the Force Bond. She sucked air through her nose as the three clones, now all unconscious, were thrown onto hover gurneys and the assassins walked out. 

She took a slow breath, putting herself back together. Crosshair was right. She was the only shot now, so she very carefully crept into the base. There were holes in the walls, ripped open by the Zillo beast’s furious escape, so she took a leap and slithered into the air vents. She had to move carefully, peeking through each exit vent in search of the girls. She could get them onto a shuttle, Omega was a good pilot who could get them to Pabu, and go back for the men. She’d never leave them behind. They didn’t leave their own behind. That was the one rule, the one that mattered more than life itself-

The humming of a wet lab, not dissimilar to the one she’d found Mayrin in, caught her attention. A moment after, she heard a familiar wail. A cry any mother knew, their own baby’s inconsolable sobbing. She scuttled to a vent, peering down in search of her daughter. 

A white-coated lab technician was holding down a struggling infant, trying to get a blood draw from her little foot while the baby screamed. The woman was too rough, talking sharply to the tiny victim. “Stop all this squirming, X99-01.”

Hearing her baby referred to as a number sent Miria’s blood boiling, and she held out her hand. The technician coughed, setting the syringe down and trying to clear her throat. As soon as the needle was out of her hand and she’d stepped back from Mayrin, Miria snatched her by the neck with the force into the wall as hard as she could. The woman crumpled, unconscious, and Miria drew her saber to cut the vent cover off. She dropped into the room, putting her saber back on her hip and taking her helmet off to scoop up her daughter. “Shh, shh. You’re alright, May. Mama’s here.” She breathed, letting the baby see her face. “Shh.” 

Mayrin’s sniffling stopped and she reached for Miria’s cheeks, the Jedi bringing her up to her shoulder to cradle her. Once she stopped crying, Miria reached for her helmet. “Let’s get out of here, starshine. I can find Omega, and we’ll-”

Mayrin yanked a handful of Miria’s hair before she could put it on and made an indignant noise. Miria frowned, turning her head to a closed door between this lab and an adjacent one. She glanced at her baby and frowned. Through the Force, she felt the tiny insistence that she open that door. “Are you sure, May? We’re already in quite a bit of trouble here…”

Mayrin yanked her hair again, and she sighed. “Alright, starshine. But we need to hurry. I’ve got to find your father and uncles.” She tucked the baby into the sling she’d been wearing on her back since she’d lost her on Pabu and picked up her helmet with one hand, lightsaber out in the other, and cut a hole in the locked door.

It was creepy in here, dimly lit, and she held up her saber to see. Inside was a single bacta tank, with more screens and readouts than she’d ever seen. Miria took a few steps closer and pushed her saber closer, to get a look at the man inside’s face.

Sharp, angular features marred with a few deep scars were quiet inside. He was missing an arm at the mid-forearm, and one leg below the knee. His narrow chest was also studded with deep scarring, and it was clear he had been in the tank a while just to be as stable as the readouts showed. Miria leaned in a little closer, looking back up to examine his face. His hair was a little reddish, as far as she could tell inside the bacta, but he looked eerily familiar. He was built so much like Crosshair, taller and slimmer than most clones. Just like…

“Tech.” She whispered with a sudden realization. 

Tech was alive. Minus two limbs, but alive. Hemlock had lied.

Miria glanced over her shoulder at Mayrin. “Good work, starshine. Let’s see what else they have in here.” She went tearing the lab apart, ripping everything out of every drawer and cabinet, until she found two sealed prosthetics sitting in sterile casings stacked in the back next to a black uniform eerily similar to the one the assassins wore. She quickly checked the diagnostics, finding multiple notes about CT-9902. “So that’s what you were planning. Turn Tech into one of those hollow killers and let them train my daughter.” She turned around and started typing at the bacta tank until it started draining. Her too-long missing friend settled on the bottom and she leaned over as the door opened. “Tech? Ner vod, can you hear me?”

He grimaced as he came back awake, mumbling to himself. “... Plan 99. There’s no time… sever the connection hinge…” She could almost hear Echo muttering the same way when they found him in Skako Minor.

“Tech.” She reached into the tank, catching his face gently. “Open your eyes.”

The clone shivered, skin wet with bacta and cooling rapidly, and opened his eyes slowly. “G-general?” 

She smiled, eyes a little watery, and took his good hand. “Oh, I’m so mad at you. Let’s get you out of here.”

He nodded, letting her help him upright and get the prosthetics on. “Did you… commission these for me?”

“If you want to be technical, I stole them.” She adjusted them for him carefully. “How’s that? Can you move?”

He nodded. “General… why do you have an infant?”

“This is your niece. My daughter, will Crosshair, who we did find. We’re in an Imperial base, and we’re getting out. I can’t give you a full brief, because Crosshair, Hunter, and Wrecker have been captured. Put his uniform on, and here’s some boots.” 

He nodded, squinting. “Do you know where my goggles are?” 

“Broken, in the Archium on Pabu. We’ll get them fixed, I promise.” She helped him to his feet once he was dressed. “Now, we’re going to need to climb through the vents. Think you can make it?”

He nodded again, rubbing his face and frowning as he traced the depth of the scars. “...How long have I been here?”

Miria looked at her daughter, doing mental math. “Ten months?” 

“.... shit.”

“Yes. Now here, let me boost you. Go left and I’ll direct you from behind.” 

She gave him a leg up and he followed instructions, Miria following behind with Mayrin on her back and carefully guiding him to the broken entry she’d used in the hangar. As they came back out, she spotted a white-armored trooper and a familiar head of auburn hair. She flipped her blaster up. “Doctor Karr.”

Emerie turned around, hands up. “Master Halcyon-”

“Easy, Miri.” The trooper said, lifting a hand. 

Miria paused. “Echo?”

“Yeah. Had to change clothes on the descent.”

She sighed, holstering the blaster and walking over. Omega was standing with four other children, one of which was a toddler, and started to grin until she saw who was walking behind the Jedi. “T-tech?!”

“Hello, Omega.” He oof-ed when she tackled into him. “It is good to see you as well…” 

“I thought you were dead.” She whispered, overcome.

“Based on the injuries I believe I have, I think I might have briefly been.” He patted her hair gently with his new metal hand, then glanced at Echo. “We seem to lose an extraordinary amount of limbs on this squad.”

“You have no idea.” Miria placed Mayrin in Tech’s arms. “You need to go. I have to go back for the others. We’ll meet you.”

Echo handed Emerie a set of coordinates. “This is where you need to take them. We’ll catch up.”

Omega looked between Miria and Emerie, then stepped back with her and Echo. Emerie frowned. “Omega?”

“I have to do this.”

Emerie nodded and handed her a datapad. “This will give you access to the whole facility.”

The other kids threw their arms around Omega tightly, as if they’d planned it, and she hugged them and sent them on their way. Miria patted Tech’s arm. “I’ll see you soon, vod. Look after my little one.”

“Of course, General.” He followed Emerie into the shuttle they’d indicated, and she ran off with Omega and Echo.

Omega bolstered her resolve with a grin. “Let’s complete the mission.” Miria was so proud of her, of who she’d become and who she would grow into.

 They made their way straight for the detention block Omega had busted them out of, clones crowded at the bars of their cells with wide eyes when they saw them.

“What’s going on?” One asked. 

“We’re busting out.” Omega plopped the datapad into a dock and unlocked every cell door. Miria turned around, watching weak kneed but determined looking soldiers step out and come around. Along with Rampart, who she was less than thrilled to see but still willing to honor her deal to get him out safely. Nala Se as well, and she quickly went to check on Omega. Miria had to appreciate the Kaminoan woman, who’d both saved Omega by warning her and made sure Miria found Mayrin.

Echo turned around, passing out guns left and right. “I know you’ve all been through hell, but we’re going to need help. Will anyone fight with us?”

One bearded clone took a deep breath. “I will. I’ve got one more fight left in me.”

“Me too.” Another responded. 

Echo grinned and looked at Miria, who held up her lightsaber. “I want my riduur back, and I want Hemlock’s head on a platter. The only way the girls will ever be safe is if he’s dead.”

“Sounds good to me.” He looked at the datapad. “The pneumatic tube system runs through here. It’s the method Omega took through the walls. Omega, can you get us eyes in there?”

Omega nodded, Miria nodding to her and handing her a comm. “Don’t engage until we give the signal, okay? You’re as reckless as I am.”

“I take after my sister.” Omega smiled, slipping into the wall. 

Miria tapped her foot, rubbing the hilt of her lightsaber and taking slow breaths to maintain her clear head. She had to stay calm, keep her balance, and fight. She had to face the fear of the clone assassins. 

This time she was not going to be caught off guard. 

“Miri, Echo, I’ve found Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair. There’s guards, but I think I can get them loose if you give me a decent distraction.”

Miria smiled darkly. “You’ve got it, dear.” She looked at Echo, and the gathered clones who would join them. “Ready, gentlemen?” She cooed, pulling out her lightsaber and twirling it. She saw some of the clones light up and throw salutes at her. 

“Yes, General.”

She led the way to the training room, where Hemlock had tormented Crosshair and countless clones before him. Where he would have tormented Tech, if Miria hadn’t found him. She’d had enough of this place and that man, and cut the door off its hinges. “Give them hell, boys.”

The room was dark and had moving obstacles, which were immediately put to use against her and her band of rescued clones. The assassins hunted them in the chaos, while Omega worked hurriedly above to get Wrecker free first. 

When Miria heard the crackle of an electroblade, she turned and put her own saber through his chest. “You’re not the one I’m looking for.” She muttered, dropping him and taking off up the side of the platform with the Force. Echo had the other clones, and Echo always pulled through. He’d never let her down. He never would.

When she made it up to the level where her team was restrained, Hemlock had already put his hands on Omega, cuffing her wrist to his. “I’ve got you.”

“You forgot I’ve got them.” Omega smirked, and Wrecker ripped one hand loose and cannon-balled his way out of the torture seat. Miria grinned, immensely proud, and moved to cut Hunter out when a blaster shot narrowly missed her head. She spun, facing the assassin who’d taken her baby as Hemlock ripped the control patch off his arm and ordered him to cover his own escape.

“He left you for dead.” Miria said dangerously.

“I left you for dead on that beach.” He responded, still deadpan and uninflected. 

“And I should have killed you on Teth. I won’t make the same mistake twice..” She lunged, deflecting shots as he took them. Wrecker got Hunter and Crosshair free, the sniper barely on his feet and Hunter picking up the electrostaff that another assassin had dropped in the shuffle. 

“You should have stayed down.

“You should have kept your hand off my husband.” She went low, sliding to her knees and coming up behind him. She thrust her blade backwards as Hunter aimed for the chest, and the two of them skewered him in two directions. Just behind them, Wrecker put the other one’s head through a wall before he had to sit down and clutch his chest.

“He went that way, with Omega.” Miria pointed.

“I’ll go, make for the shuttle.” Hunter wheezed, picking up a pistol.

“Like hell you will.” Crosshair muttered. 

Miria nodded. “Together. Echo, get Wrecker and the others to the shuttle.” 

“Yes, General.” 

The three parents walked out onto the rain, the clones missing their helmets and Miria swapping her saber for a blaster. 

Hemlock was cornered and he knew it, holding a blaster to Omega’s head. “No closer! Stop right there!” It was the first time she’d ever heard panic in his voice. He was usually so disgustingly calm and wickedly composed. He was scared. 

Good.

“We all know you won’t hurt her.” Miria called out. “You need her, Hemlock. Like you needed me, and my daughter. And failed to keep us, so just hand Omega over.”

“The Emperor would kill me for failure.”

“Killing you is the least I can do.” Miria assured him. 

Hunter sank down to one knee and Crosshair lined up a shot with his left hand, the sniper spotting something shiny in Omega’s sleeve. “Miri, keep his eyes on you. Cross, aim for the cuffs.”

“It’s too close. I can’t risk Omega.” Crosshair breathed.

“She knows what to do. And I know you can do it.” Hunter had absolute faith in his brother, and so did Miria. Crosshair just had to believe in himself. 

Miria held her saber up again, keeping Hemlock’s focus firmly on her. “You’re afraid of him. And Vader, have you met him yet? Do you want to know the real, terrible truth? I’m worse than either of them, if I need to be. I raised Darth Vader.”

Hemlock shuddered, and that was the opening Omega needed to yank a metal instrument from her sleeve and stab him in the leg. He doubled over and she threw her arms up, giving Crosshair his shot. He pulled the trigger, and hit the cuffs. They came open, and Omega hit the deck. Miria and Hunter opened fire, slamming shot after shot into Hemlocks chest and throat, until he toppled over the edge of the bridge and vanished into the rain. 

The blaster fire petered out, and Miria crouched next to Crosshair as Omega came running as fast as she could. When she got close enough to see clearly, she froze. Rain and tears streamed down her face as she looked at them, eyes fixing on Crosshair’s missing hand. 

Before Crosshair could blink, she had thrown her arms around his neck and was sobbing into the hug. His eyes widened, then softened and closed as he leaned in, and Omega looped another arm around Hunter to pull him into her embrace too. Miria was dragged in by a little brown hand smacking into her helmet wetly, and put her head against Crosshair’s shoulder. 

It didn’t matter that it was pouring, or that lightning was flaring all around them and lighting up the miserable base. What mattered was Omega was safe, in their arms, and their family was together again.

Crosshair lifted his head slowly and looked at Miria, who had her hand on his vambrace that lead to the missing hand. “Mayrin? Did you find her too?”

Miria nodded, taking off her helmet so he could see her smile. The rain even felt kind of nice, cleansing after the fog of the fight. “I put her on a transport with the other children they were holding… and Tech.”

Hunter and Crosshair did a double take. “Tech?”

Her grin brightened. “What was that you were saying about the squad being dead, my darling? Because I think I’ve disproven that.”

“He’s alive?” Crosshair whispered. 

“He should beat us to Pabu. I went ahead and sent him home.” Miria put her head down on the water-slick expanse of her husband’s shoulder. “After all, we don’t leave our own behind.” 

It felt utterly bizarre to step back onto Pabu after the stark horror of Tantiss. Miria led the way out, turning back to watch Crosshair turn his face up towards the sun, like he’d never really appreciated it before now. Maybe he hadn’t, still swallowed up in his own guilt. Now he was softer-eyed, a small smile playing across his lips. She stepped to the side and let Hunter and Echo help Wrecker down the ramp, holding out a hand to her husband. “How do you feel, darling?” She smiled when his left hand slipped into hers. 

“Better than I have in a long time.” He admitted. “It’s good to be home… to have a home.”

She nodded, bringing him down to stand beside her. They looked around, spotting the three clone cadets Hunter had rescued offering ice cones to the children Omega had set free of Tantiss. Tech was standing nearby, squinting as Phee handed him his broken goggles from the Archium. Crosshair swallowed hard, looking at his twin until Miria gently squeezed his fingers. “Go on, love.” She whispered.

Crosshair slowly pulled his hand away from hers and started towards the genius. His strides started slow and measured, but the longer he walked the more speed he built up until he was all out running. Tech turned just in time to catch him, arms wrapping tight around his twin and pressing his forehead against Crosshair’s. “You’re alive.” Crosshair whispered.

“I am.” Tech smiled. “And the General found you. I knew she would.” 

“You’re still an asshole for that Plan 99 banthashit.” Crosshair’s voice cracked.

“I could say the same thing to you.” Miria caught up, smiling at Phee when the pirate raised an eyebrow. “He tried to tell me he was going to infiltrate Tantiss by himself.”

“Where is your hand?!” Tech blinked, finally getting a visual on Crosshair’s right wrist.

“You’re missing one too.” Crosshair huffed. “So is Echo.”

“I am also missing a leg, but I fell off a rail car from a great height. What did you do?”

“The bastard who kidnapped our daughter and stabbed me in the ribs.” Miria patted Crosshair’s back.

“It is fortunate you found me, then. I can make a prosthetic.” Tech nodded. “And upgrade my own.” 

“That can wait. Where’s my kid?” Crosshair frowned.

“I gave her to Lady Annalise. I did not realize she was on Pabu, General.”

Miria turned around, spotting her parents standing near the edge of the Archium looking for her in the crowd of newly freed clones. Mayrin was on her grandmother’s hip, and Miria reached into her pocket and pulled out Rosie. “We should probably take this back to her.” 

Tech glanced at the doll, then at Crosshair. “You made another doll?”

“I knew you knew.” Crosshair chuckled faintly. “Yeah, I did.” 

Tech’s smile a genuine, if a little squinty still. “All this time I believed you were severe and unyielding, but you seem to have changed despite my conviction you could not.”

Miria smiled. “There is no force more destructive to a strong man than a daughter.” 

Tech nodded. Crosshair left his arm slung over his twins shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to her properly.” 

They walked off to see her parents, and Miria looked over at Phee. “He seem like himself?” 

Phee nodded. “Clueless as ever… but I did finally kiss him. I think he gets the picture now.” She headed over to stand with Tech again, reluctant to let him out of her sight now.

Miria smiled. “Oh good…” She looked around again, eyes wide. Civilians were giving aid to the clone refugees, Pabu’s people capable of the same endless kindness Miria admired so much in Omega. Crosshair had Mayrin in his arms, ignoring his missing hand in favor of introducing his daughter to Tech. The genius was smiling, brightening when Phee wrapped her fingers into his again.  Wrecker was sitting down to rest, Shep and Lyana checking on him while AZI inspected his chest. Hunter and Omega were up under the large tree, the darling girl with her head on his arm as they talked. Echo and Emerie were talking, and she could feel the acceptance building between them. 

The war would go on outside Pabu. The Empire would rage a little longer, and eventually she knew she’d be called back into the fight. It was almost inevitable, when the Empire was led by a Sith and so few Jedi remained to stand against him. But for now… there was a little peace.

She turned and walked over to Crosshair and her parents, giving Mayrin her stuffie once Annalise had freed her from a tight hug. “I thought you were going back to Naboo, Mother.”

“We decided to stay.” Jet shook his head. “We knew you’d come back here, once you found the girls.” 

“No doubt we’d find them?” Crosshair raised an eyebrow. 

“Never.” Annalise patted his arm. 

Miria smiled and gently tugged Crosshair’s chest plate until he came down to her level, kissing him firmly. “Ni kartayli gar darasuum, my darling.”

“Darasuum, cyare.”

Ten years later

“Where do you think you’re going?”

 The little girl froze mid-footstep, halfway down the steps from Upper Pabu to Lower, with a bindle full of snacks and a stolen blaster in her hands. She turned slowly, silver ponytail bouncing, until her lavender eyes were reflected in the flashlight held in her direction. “... how’d you hear me?”

“You’re not as quiet as you think, May.” Crosshair raised an eyebrow, facing his daughter with his flashlight in his prosthetic hand and the other one on his hip. Ten years on Pabu had changed him some, though he was still the smartass he’d always been. He’d grown a scruffy beard and let his hair grow back, and was far more comfortable in civilian clothes than he thought he’d be when he retired. “Besides, your mom just knows stuff.”

“I do.” 

Mayrin squeaked and turned around, finding her mother two steps below her with her arms crossed. Miria’s hair had grown longer and the beginnings of gray were starting to creep into her temples, but Crosshair still thought she looked just as perfect as she had the day she’d met him on a Coruscanti hangar bay and asked him his name instead of CT number. 

“Auntie Mega snuck out! She’s going to the Rebellion!” Mayrin frowned. “I want to go too.”

“You’re a kid, Mayrin.” Crosshair shook his head. “Now give me back my blaster.”

“How come she gets to go?” Mayrin huffed as he eased the weapon out of her grasp. “She’s a good pilot but I’m a better shot than she is!”

“Because she’s twenty-three, and you are ten.” Miria put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s her decision as an adult. You, however, are still our responsibility until you’re grown. When you are, you can make your choice about where you go. And if you choose to fight, we’ll support you.”

Crosshair chuckled. “Hell, we’ll go with you.” 

Mayrin frowned, looking up at both of them as Miria guided her back up the stairs. “You will?”

Crosshair nodded. “I think I’ve got one more fight in me. What about you, cyare?” 

Miria nodded with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be our first fight.” 

“You’re a preschool teacher, Mom. What kind of fighting have you done?” Mayrin squinted at her. 

“Your mom was a Jedi, and a general.” Crosshair shook his head and looked up as a ship launched from the lower caves. Hunter must have gotten to say his goodbyes before Omega snuck off… they’d known she was going to go eventually. She talked too much like Echo, about doing more and saving more lives. They’d raised her well, and she’d make them all proud on the battlefield. 

“I was the leader of the best black ops squad in the Clone Wars, with your father and uncles. We never failed a mission… your father was the best sniper in the Republic.” Miria chuckled, glancing up with the same proud expression he had. Omega was, as she’d always hoped, not just as good as them. She was better. 

“Dad’s only got one hand!”

“You wanna hear how I lost it, kid?” Crosshair smirked. 

“You’ve told me fifteen different versions. Last week I was helping Ba’vodu Tech with an engine block and you said ‘watch out, that’s how I lost my hand.’” Mayrin wrinkled her nose. 

“Well, let me tell you the truth. The whole story.” Miria steered her daughter back towards the house. “Before your grandmother notices we’re outside and comes at me with a shoe.”

“Fine. But I wanna know the whole story, from the beginning!” Mayrin said firmly. 

“We’re gonna be up all night. I’ll start a pot of caf.” Crosshair chuckled again. “And tea for you, cyare.” 

Miria smiled. “Alright then. If you want to go back to the very beginning, it started when I was six years old. I was on Illum-”

[therealgchu]

To The Shore Chapter 4 - The Mantis

chapter 4 is up! i also finally figured out how to put up a proper summary (thanks, @eridanidreams!), so that's up now, too.

a couple notes: this was a really hard chapter to write. TW: suicidal ideation, mention of injury, and medical gore.

Excerpt:

“SONOFABITCH!” Sam shouted as a bullet impacted his shoulder. His rifle dropped from his hands as he was driven backwards. This just wasn’t his day! In the split second between seeing the Spacer take aim and the bullet hitting him, he thought about Hwa offering to upgrade his armor this morning and how he said he was fine, and not to worry.

Hwa whipped her head around at the sound of his exclamation to see him stumble backwards. “Sam! SAM!!” Hwa shouted, and saw him drop to his knees. She jumped down from her perch and raced over to where he was sitting, hand over his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers. “OHMYGODSAMSAMOHMYSAMOHMYGOD!” she shouted incoherently. “WHATHAVEITOLDYOUABOUTTAKINGCOVERGODDAMMIT!” She dragged him behind shipping containers out of the line of fire. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” she mumbled as she patted her pockets and pack for a medpack.

“Maybe I will take that armor now,” he said weakly, then groaned.

“Shut up,” she ordered and injected him with a medpack. She ripped his shirt at the shoulder and inspected the wound. It looked like it entered the shoulder in an upward trajectory, and exited high through the back. A lucky shot, clean exit wound, no bone hit or fragmentation. She then ripped open a couple zipper bandages and applied them to both sides. The zipper bandages immediately sutured the wound and administered antiseptics and pain killers.

He gave her a weak smile, then groaned again. “Spacers aren’t usually such good shots,” he said.

A bullet pinged above their heads, taking a chip out of the shipping container. Suddenly, Hwa had an expression he hoped he was never on the receiving end. “Stay here, stay down,” she growled.

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving. The floor here is pretty nice. Good, solid floor.”

He watched her race out from behind cover, but instead of the sniper rifle, she brought the shotgun to bear. She raced out in the open across the warehouse floor at top speed. Maybe he was going into shock, but he swore he heard her shouting, “Oh no you don’t! Not my Sam, you motherfuckers!” and unloaded on the closest Spacer at point blank rage. He was pretty certain he heard the Spacers start screaming, “Oh shit, it’s the MANTIS!” as Hwa bore down on them with the shotgun. While not nearly with as much finesse as the sniper rifle, he did see she was still pretty damn deadly, and a whole lot scarier in her rage. He made a mental note to never piss her off so much that she ever made that face at him. She’d scare a terrormorph with that expression.

[dangraccoon]

Jari'eyc - Chapter 11

Read on AO3

Word Count: 1973

Warnings: fugue state kinda?, war and fight flashbacks, injuries, homocide (justified), Wrecker is dyslexic, misunderstanding feelings, intense pain from injury, medical procedures (administering pain stim), implied spiciness

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“Jaine.”

The ground was a very uncomfortable place to be, Jaine discovered. Her head was spinning. 

“Jaine?” a voice called, just ahead of her. “Jaine, you have to get up!”

“I- I’m up,” she mumbled as she pushed herself up to her hands and knees. Waves of ache rolled through her body.

“We have to move,” the voice hissed. She knew that voice, didn’t she?

Vaguely, she could feel someone pulling her up by her arm. Her eyes wouldn’t focus.

“What-”

“We’re getting out of this shithole,” he spat, eyes shifting around the landscape. Slowly, she could hear the sound of blaster fire and explosions in the distance. 

“My side,” she whimpered, pressing her hand to it. 

“That one’s just a graze,” he confirmed, slinging her arm over his shoulders, effortlessly supporting her weight despite his own limp. “Your real trouble is in your leg.”

“We have to- to get out of here.”

He nodded. “We’re about a klick from the rendezvous point. The rest of Ghost Company is waiting for us just over that ridge.”

“C-Cody,” she said. 

“Don’t even think about it, Jaine,” he grunted as he pulled her along. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“Cody-”

“No.”

“Jaine.”

“Commander!”

“What?” she muttered, the feeling of her old friend at her side flickering like a holo with a spotty signal. 

“Commander, are you alright?” 

Jaine blinked and she was on the ground again. She wasn’t on that stars-forsaken desert moon she couldn’t remember the name of. Cody wasn’t the clone kneeling in front of her.

“Sig, get the medpack,” Fluke called. He pushed her gently back into a sitting position as she attempted to get up. “Easy, Commander. Need you to stay put. It didn’t knick anything too important, but I can’t have you passing out on my watch.”

“Fluke, I-I’m alright,” she lied. The pain in her side was growing stronger. Oh right, she thought. That insurgent with the knife.

Fluke scoffed. “Sure, Commander, and I’m the Queen of Naboo.”

Sig arrived with the medpack and Fluke set to work, irrigating the wound. It stung like hell. 

“I can patch you up here, Commander, but you’re gonna need stitches.”

“Fluke, I thought I told you to just call me Jaine,” she huffed out.

“You did, Commander,” he retorted with a smirk.

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wake up, Jaine.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her power suppressing cuffs.

“Commander Jaine Vale, you have been tried for the murder of an Imperial officer and found guilty. ” the Admiral stated, his voice even.

Jaine could feel her blood boiling and bile rising in her throat. “He deserved worse,” she spat.

“Sir, the subject is unresponsive.”

Jaine kept her head down as she was repeatedly ordered.

“Commander?” a voice said next to her as she boarded the prison transport. She recognized his mess of curls and the scar that crossed the bridge of his nose and tops of his cheeks, as well as the buzzed red hair of the clone next to him.

She hazarded a glance. “Fluke? Sig? Why are you here?”

“Guess the higher ups don’t take too kindly to those trying to wake up their vode,” Fluke chuckled.

“Quiet, clone,” hissed one of the stormtroopers as he jabbed Fluke with the end of his rifle.

The three prisoners shared a look of annoyance, all finding comfort in being together.

“Did she die again?” Hemlock asked, his voice seeming disinterested.

Karr shook her head, turning her datapad for him to see. “No, sir. Her vitals and brain activity are normal.”

“Have her eyes been open the whole time?”

“No, that began about two minutes ago.”

Hemlock shone a bright light in her eyes. “Her pupils are reacting normally. Heart rate?” 

“Normal,” Karr answered.

“Perhaps Miss Vale is simply ignoring us,” Hemlock concluded. “Start the droid again, don’t stop until she begins responding.”

“Doctor Hemlock, the subject has repeatedly stated she does not know who Clone Force 99 is,” Karr said. “I’m not sure if-”

“I would not recommend taking the word of prisoners.”

–

Crosshair woke with a start, nearly smacking his head against the ceiling.

“You alright?” Wrecker asked from his bunk.

“Fine,” Crosshair mumbled as he swung his legs over the side. He could practically feel Wrecker’s hesitation. “What?”

“Was it a nightmare? Or did you see-”

“Jaine, yeah.” He rubbed at the back of his head, absentmindedly noting how often the spot of Jaine’s scar bothered him as well. 

“Is she okay?” Wrecker asked anxiously.

Crosshair felt his stomach twist into knots. “Wrecker, she’s in a prison where she is tortured all day by some sadistic fuck.”

His words were harsh and hit Wrecker like a tsunami, but his tone was hollow and haunted. 

“I’m sorry,” Crosshair started. “The dreams are getting… less vivid. It’s like- it’s like I’m out of range to pick up the comm chatter.”

“And you’re worried about her,” Wrecker finished. Crosshair nodded, running his hands over his eyes. “Do you-” He fidgeted a little. “Do you still like her?”

Crosshair eyed his brother, who seemed to be looking anywhere but directly at him. “Yeah.”

“Even after everything she did?”

Crosshair sighed. “Yes, I still love her.”

He watched the bigger man shifting uncomfortably in his bunk.

“Cross?”

“Yeah?”

“I gotta tell you something,” he practically whispered as he sat up in the bunk.

Crosshair nodded as the man’s leg started to bounce. He only did that when he was really nervous. 

“Cross, I… I really like Jainey,” he breathed, his shoulders dropping like a weight was pulled from them. “I really like her. Even after all this time and everything she said and did.”

Crosshair simply nodded. He didn’t want to discourage this- he couldn’t.

“And I know that you and her were– are-” he chuckled nervously. “A-a-and I don’t want to get in the way of that, but I don’t like holding it in; doesn’t feel right.”

“I know, Wreck,” Crosshair said.

Wrecker’s eyes shot up to his younger brother. “You do?”

“I saw the way all of you looked at her,” he shrugged, taking her datapad in his hands. “I can’t blame you; I look at her the same way.”

“Really? You’re not mad?”

Crosshair scoffed as he jumped down from his bunk. “Wreck, I’d be more surprised if you weren’t in love with her.” He offered the datapad in his hands. “She wrote me a letter in her language. Tech translated it. I think it might be good for you to read it, too.”

Wrecker’s eyes searched his brother’s face for even the tiniest hint of a joke. Finding nothing he just nodded, taking the datapad in his hands. He watched his little brother stretch, the action vaguely reminding him of a loth cat, and walk away to another part of the ship, leaving him alone on his bunk.

Wrecker’s hands were shaking a little. He hadn’t been so nervous to read since he was a cadet. He shuddered at the unpleasant memories of the Kaminoans’ “tests”.

Take a deep breath, he heard Movri's voice in his head. This is just a moment. For better or worse, it will be gone soon.

He could feel his pulse quicken at the thought of the kind togruta man. He pushed it away- his burgeoning feelings for his new friend weren’t important now; finding and rescuing Jainey was his current mission.

As he looked down at the screen, the words and letters seemed to bond together into an impenetrable wall. He shifted the screen back and forth, growling a little as he tried to decipher the translated text.

With a groan, he gave up on the first paragraph, opting instead to try and search through until he found his own name.

Wrecker has been more touchy lately. He picks me up and holds me close. He is so sweet and kind, it almost makes my heart ache. I play along like I want him to put me down, but that is far from the truth. I see how he steals glances at you when I am in his arms. I know he is nervous, but I would be glad to let him hold me as long as he sees fit.

Wrecker sighed once he got through the paragraph, relief washing over him as the headache he’d quickly started to develop waned. He’d been worried that she didn’t like the physicality of his affection. But this put it to rest: she didn’t mind it and they were friends.

We have to find her.

Realization struck through his chest like a spear. She doesn’t remember you, some cruel voice echoed through his brain. 

“Wrecker?”

His head snapped up to meet Omega’s concerned look.

“Oh, hey, ‘Mega,” he tried to smile.

“Crosshair gave you the letter, didn’t he?”

Wrecker heaved a sigh and nodded. “I-I know she…did a lot of really bad stuff, but-”

“You miss her,” Omega finished for him. “It wasn’t her fault. It’s the chip.”

“I know,” he frowned. 

Omega placed a gentle hand in his. “We’re going to get her back.”

-

“Tech, are you alright?” Runi called, knocking lightly on the fresher door.

“I am fine,” came the muffled response. Even through the door she could hear the strain in his voice. “Your medical assistance is not necessary.

Runi scowled. “You ran in there pretty fast,” she argued.

“Your concern is-” his voice wavered. “Is unwarranted.”

“Tech-”

“What’s wrong with him?” Echo asked, sidling up to press a kiss to her temple. She smiled at the soft touch.

“Don’t know,” she sighed. “He just ran in there.”

“Give him a few minutes,” he advised, his hand cupping her cheek. “He’ll let someone know what’s wrong when he’s ready.”

Runi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure,” she snarked.

“Runi!”

Both of their heads snapped towards the medbay and they ran.

“What’s going on?” Runi asked as she took in the scene before her.

Sinya was curled in on herself, cradling her left hand against her chest, pained whimpers falling from her lips.

“She was fine but then she started-” Hunter explained, shirtless Runi noted in the back of her brain. “It’s- it’s the burn.”

She spoke soothingly to Sinya, gently coaxing her to release the clutch on her hand as she stuck a monitor patch to her chest. “Can I look at your hand?”

“I-I can’t,” she sobbed. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” Runi shushed. “I’m going to give you a pain-stim to help you relax a little, then we’re gonna look at your hand, alright?”

Sinya nodded tearfully and Runi looked over her shoulder.

“Echo, grab the-”

“Here,” he interrupted, the stim already in the autoinjector he was handing to her.

“Alright, Sinya, deep breaths, hun,” she whispered, pressing the injector against the twi'lek’s forearm, who whimpered a little at the sharp poke.

Runi looked at the med scanner, watching as Sinya’s heart rate began to ease back down to a normal pace. 

“S-sorry,” the woman whispered between pants. Runi looked up to answer, but found that her patient’s eyes were on the man sitting next to her. His eyes were filled with concern, but his lips were pulled up in a gentle smile.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, sarad,” he assured her, taking her uninjured hand in his. “We’ll have time.”

Runi fought to suppress a smile, exchanging an amused look with Echo as she unwrapped Sinya’s hand.

Once she pulled the bandage away, she nearly gasped. The burn had gotten worse. The center had expanded, faint red wisps still emanating from the ruined skin.

“That bad?” Sinya quipped.

“Honestly?” Runi hummed, releasing Sinya’s wrist. “I don’t know if it’s bad, and I don’t know how to treat it.”

Sinya nodded. If she were honest with herself, she probably expected that. “Do you think it’ll spread?” 

Runi scowled. “I hope not.”

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Thanks for reading! - River

Jari'eyc Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @lokigirlszendaya @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @techs-goggles9902

[whitedragoncoranth]

Destination Knowhere...

No one knew where the two had come from--but when the station shifted into its artificial day cycle, there they were. One of the two was an enormous dragoness the size of an A380 airbus - a massive Terran Aircraft - and the other with her seemed to be a Terran. They were a bit battered and bruised - as if they'd been in some sort of fight - but not seriously wounded.

Of course, an alert was called - Nebula, Rocket, Kraglin, Cosmo and the other Guardians came to see what all the fuss was about - and all were stunned when they saw the huge dragoness curled in one of the station's parks, gently fussing over the Terran with her, whimpering soft and low, nosing and nuzzling over him, licking a bruise on his head. So preoccupied was she with tending to her companion that Nebula had to clear her throat before the dragoness would look at her.

When she did... Nebula was stunned by the gentleness, warmth, and deep compassion in the creature's midnight-blue gaze. Realizing that there were other people here - people who could help - the golden-bronze dragoness began twittering-chirruping-trilling, but everyone soon realized that - whatever language the dragoness spoke - it was something truly alien that no translator chip could decipher. Soon the dragoness, too, realized this, and with finality, she gestured gently to her human with a wing, whimpered, and then made a soft noise to any who would hear, a plaintive cry.

... and then the poor dragoness sobbed with relief as Nebula and the Guardians, even the citizens of Knowhere got things organized giving what food and Medpacks they could spare. When Rocket was called to work on a translator chip upgrade for her language, however... that was when things took an unusual turn. The dragoness took one look at Rocket and lifted the wing not covering her rider, as if to invite him under in a tremendous display of trust; she purred to him, cooed to him, nosed at him gently, made to lick-lick softly at him, repeating a word over and over. "Kiir! Kiir! Kiir!" When Rocket was able to trans-late it, he shook his head. "I... I ain't yer child, lady." At this, the dragon whimpered, and then wilted, her expression turning forlorn, and her eyes tearing up.

"Ah, you're small enough that she thinks you could be, and that's enough for her; Ieesha will mother anything with a pulse!" the Terran - whose name was David - said, voice rough, once he'd awoken. With gentle hands and soft voice, Rocket watched as the Terran soothed the huge dragoness, Ieesha, and she turned her head towards him again. "... Kiir, lig meyz!" she said again, voice plaintive. "Ieesha says to you: 'Child, please come'", David translated for Ieesha to Rocket. Then, he continued, "She usually gets what she wants. Come on, man, come under. S'nice and warm..." Rocket looked back at the Terran and the dragoness, her wing still lifted. That wing does look kinda inviting... he thought, but then shook the thought away.

I don't need no Mama; I'm fully grown, I... I don' need... I don'... Why were his eyes goin' all misty?! Sniffling, a tiny hitch of his body as he snuffled back a sob. Rocket looked back... just as the dragoness made a soft sound, a raccoon-call to him--which made the child in him leap and the baby in him wail. "Y-You flarkin' stupid idiot..." he whispered softly to himself with cracking voice. He turned back to the human and the dragoness, darted under her wing--and was met with happy coos, chirruping-trilling, a barrage of nosing, nuzzles and licks as the huge dragoness fussed all over him. Jus'... okay, jus' fer now... Rocket thought. Deep within, child wept happy tears, and baby soaked up the love.

[raccoonfallsharder]

What if in the movie everyone except lylla dies in the flashback scene?

don't make me write another fanfic lol.

cw for angst, medical trauma, animal cruelty, child abuse, and a severe lack of editing.

when i first read this, i thought you meant that lylla survives instead of rocket. now i think you might mean that rocket thinks lylla is dead, but perhaps — unbeknownst to him — she does survive, or is somehow revived. so everything we see in the mcu has unfolded just as the movies have shown, except this crucial piece of information.

there are terrible versions of this story. versions where, in his bitterness and hatred for 89P13, the high evolutionary orders a barely-breathing lylla revived — in retaliation. nearly all of her becomes mechanical at this point — a hodge-podge of surgeries meant to ensure her survival without a thought to her pain. versions where, inspired by rocket's violence against his maker, wyndham uses her as the first of his experiments in a new project, and she becomes known in the labs as the mother of the hellspawn.

i don't think lylla loses or hides her soft nature, though. her way of surviving is different from rocket's. i suspect she truly cares for the wounded animal-cyborgs in her new unit, and that it breaks her heart every time one of them dies.

and they all die at some point, whether due to experimentation or battle.

maybe in that world, rocket finds her aboard the arete before it's destroyed, but i don't think she has much time left on this plane. maybe just long enough to tell him how much she loves him, and encourage him to live — to be happy. and to tell him she doesn't regret a thing, and to ask him to care for whatever hellspawn are left. they're able to be rehabilitated, after all. they've had lylla for their mother.

but to be honest, i don't really like that story. as hopeful as it is, it's still too sad for me, and neither of these babies deserves any new sadness in their life.

so perhaps, instead — in the chaos of rocket's escape — perhaps lylla is able to drag herself into hiding somewhere. perhaps the laser-shot missed her major organs, or wasn't able to damage them as much as expected because so many of parts of her had already been replaced with stronger and fancier manufactured pieces. perhaps one of wyndham's other recorders — lifeforms the high evolutionary regards as interchangeable, never sparing them a second glance — had not yet had the pity fully-bred out of them, and saw that lylla's soft chest was still moving. perhaps they reported her as being incinerated with her brother and sister, when that hadn't been the case at all.

i think that recorder — rebelling for the first time, maybe, and uncertain what to do next — might have bandaged her up as well as they could, and given her some rations, and stowed her away on an outgoing supply freighter. who knows? maybe they’d even be able to give her a medpack. stay quiet, they would have told her, even if she was barely conscious at the time. stay hidden.

she would have been too tired to do otherwise at first, and then too frightened by the recorder's warning. the crew actually probably would have liked her — who could have helped themselves? — but she never finds that out because she's too busy resting and hiding in the ventilation shafts, mourning her lost siblings and praying for rocket's safety. then, one day, there's some sort of altercation amongst the crew. some new transmission has come through — some new piece of information. she doesn't know what. but she can smell their fear, their anxiety. some of them are arguing that they should flee, seek help from other allied planets. but more of them are saying they should go directly home instead: to try and save their parents, their siblings, their children and lovers.

how can we save them? one demands, their voice shrill and agonized. we aren't fighters! none of our people are!

but the decision is made: no stops until they get back to their own planet. no stops until they land on zen-whoberi.

unfortunately, they never get to land at all. countless fleets of warships ring the planet and the supply freighter is docked and boarded by black order before it ever breaks atmosphere. lylla is fast, though, and while you might think her metal forepaws would clink too loudly against the metal gratings, the sounds of her travel are hidden under blaster-fire and screaming.

she hides in the ventilation shafts again — of a new ship, this time. the sanctuary ii. and when the little zen-whoberian is brought on board, lylla’s heart aches for her. she watches the child from the vent shafts for a full quarter, listening to her occasionally cry and sniffle for her mother in muted, muffled tones. the purple monster — thanos, they call him — speaks to the zen-whoberian only in gentle, quiet tones, patient and kind.

but lylla has been spoken to kindly before — by other men who ended up being monsters.

and she doesn’t trust this titan — not when his people had so callously executed the crew on the supply-freighter, as remorselessly as her own sire had shot her — as easily as the guards and recorders had attacked her siblings.

something shifts after the quarter-mark. thanos still talks to the child — gamora, lylla has learned — in tender tones. but the girl is brutalized — daily — in “training sessions” that make lylla’s blood run cold. the first night that gamora is sent back to her bunk with a bleeding wound across her brow, lylla decides she can’t stay quiet anymore.

it’s okay, friend, she says softly, and her voice echoes in the tiny room. don’t be scared.

cautiously, she shows herself, and the child watches her with big dark eyes as she eases her way out from behind the grate, dropping gently to the thin cot. she winces at the blood on gamora’s brow, and lifts a corner of the stiff, uncomfortable bedsheet — wetting it with her tongue before using it to dab at the congealing blood.

that night, lylla whispers stories to the zen-whoberian: stories about her brothers and sister, and stories they’d used to tell each other about freedom and stars and skies, and shining cities just beyond their reach. the next rotation, gamora brings her little scraps of her own rations, though lylla is loathe to take them. and when thanos forces gamora to kill someone for the first time, the zen-whoberian doesn’t cry at all — not till she’s safe in her bunk, holding onto her strange fur-covered friend.

lylla strokes her metal hand over the child’s head, and her heart aches and aches. she knows what gamora is feeling, deeper than any wound on her body — deeper than anything the zen-whoberian can give voice to.

hurts.

another quarter later, when the luphomoid child shows up in the bunk, lylla stays hidden until gamora can swear the younger girl to secrecy. nebula’s big dark eyes remind lylla of floor’s, and the otter can’t look away.

a few rotations later, both girls come to bed with bruises, and nebula sobs.

i don’t want to fight you, she cries into lylla’s fur, squinting at the older girl with tear-drenched eyes. i just want a sister.

gamora stares at the luphomoid helplessly. she’s still only a tiny thing herself. i don’t know how to be a sister, she admits in a forlorn, childish voice.

lylla strokes nebula’s dark hair, and opens her other thin metal arm in an offering to gamora.

i do, she offers tentatively. to be honest, i think being a sister is the thing i’m best at.

gamora’s lower lip trembles, and she throws herself into lylla’s embrace, wrapping an arm around each of her bunkmates.

it’s strange, how the presence of one quiet soul can still change so much. as thanos grows crueler in his methods, the girls attempt to trade off their wins for each other. unfortunately, he catches on quickly. if nebula loses, he replaces part of her body. if he suspects gamora has let nebula win, he still replaces part of the younger girl’s body. the luphomoid is riddled with painful, unnecessary prosthetics by the time she’s thirteen.

gamora has her own mods, of course, though they’re nowhere near as rampant as her sister’s. and after every surgery, their secret third bunkmate cares for them. and though she never says it, they’ve learned to tell from the look in lylla’s soft eyes — not to mention her quietly-held nightmares — that she knows the terror and hurt of unwanted surgeries too.

they take care of lylla, and keep her hidden. and in turn, she takes care of them, and keeps the best parts of them safe.

when gamora runs off to find the orb, she does it with nebula’s and lylla’s blessing. she’ll send word once she’s somewhere safe with the units, and they’ll escape and meet up on an unnoticeable little planet called tarka. then they’ll head to shi’ar territory, as far away from thanos as they can get.

of course, it doesn’t quite work out that way. gamora can’t sell the orb after all — not once she realizes how dangerous it is — and nebula is trapped playing double-agent between thanos and ronan until after the latter is killed on xandar.

that’s when she takes her fur-sleek sister from sanctuary ii and runs.

of course nebula fills lylla in as much as she can — as much as she knows — about their sister and the guardians. but unfortunately, all she knows is that there is an idiot-terran and a worse-idiot-kylosian, and a tree, and a fox. and some dancing.

meet us on sovereign turns into meet us on berhert turns into wait, we’re leaving to visit peter’s father; i’ll tell you where it’s safe to meet us next. nebula makes lylla promise to stay on their little ship while she lands them on berhert anyway. the youngest of the sisters — bald, now, and more than half-robotic — helps the fox stop a ravager mutiny, and finds out where her older sister was headed.

ego.

there’s some arguing between them — some trust-issues, you could say. because, well, the fox and the ravager captain only know nebula as ronan’s lackey. it doesn’t help that nebula insists on stopping at her own ship before they leave berhert, but won’t let them on.

she’s too used to keeping her third sister a secret, you see.

nevertheless, eventually, nebula decides to leave with the eclector, and they let her come with them. it isn’t until after the war with ego — after the funeral for yondu, with all the colors of ogord dazzling up the void of space — that nebula and gamora are able to sit down and explain everything to the rest of the guardians of the galaxy.

which is also when the sisters explain that they need to make a stop on berhert. soon — before they go anywhere else.

they need to pick up their secret third sister, and bring her with them on all their future adventures in the wide-open sky.

the fox, at first, is resistant. the cyborg, and the bug-girl? and now somebody else? he demands rudely. how many new crew-members does the guardians frickin’ need?

but then he hears her name.

there’s no hope on his face — how could there be? — but his ears flutter. he seems to take it as some sort of sign: to shut his mouth and lean back, and let the future unfold as it will. if nebula or gamora are paying enough attention to him, perhaps they’ll notice it: the way his mouth moves when he thinks no-one is looking, rolling the two syllables between his teeth — like something sweet he’d long forgotten the flavor of. perhaps they’ll furrow their brow when they see the way his whiskers twitch, and how his ears flatten with something heavy and unnameable and wistful amongst the stars. again, he mouths the words against the shadow and sky, like a line from a favorite song.

lylla. lylla.

lylla.

headcanons & imagines | navigation

[honeypleasesugar]

Hiya! First of all, I love your writing style! It's so descriptive and it feels like being there. 💜

Second, I was so excited to see requests are open for that reason!

There's a request I would like to make and would enjoy reading if you feel like doing this one. What if the female reader was really moody and Rocket couldn't figure out why until he discovers she's on her period and tries to make her feel better? Would definitely help me this week to read about it. 😅

Thank you for your time, hun! ❤

Ugh my heart! Your too kind really, I have never seen Rocket react with someone on their period so I had a lot of fun figuring it out so hear you go a little something for your week. This is short but sweet kinda story I hope you enjoy.

Learn My Anatomy

Word count 766, Fluff to the nines Rocket x Fem Reader

You’ve just woken up from your girlfriend Y/N groaning in the bathroom, you can hear the sounds of plastic ruffles echo through the door, as you rub your crusted eyes open your curiosity peaks.

“You good Doll?” You ask in a raspy tone as you slowly sit up in the warm bed, removing the covers and grabbing your shirt as you walk to the bathroom door. She sighs as the door opens, she walks over to you to give you your daily quota or headscatches.

Her nails aren’t long but long enough to hit that sweet spot behind your ear, your tail swishes a bit as you smile up to her. “I’mma get food, want anything,” you ask, her head quips in agreement as she crawls back into bed.

You pull your shirt on and walk into the kitchen grabbing breakfast, some kind of blue egg and green bacon, along with coffee of course, cutersy of Drax and Mantis for getting up so early.

You wander back in to see her groaning as she takes pain meds? You place the food down pacing over to her where she sits, you place a hand on her thigh in worry. she looks like she just got stabbed with that scowl you thought.

“Rocket I can’t do anything today, just need a break day y'know,” she muttered as she gripped onto her stomach, you nodded in agreement asking if she needed a medpack?

All she did was chuckle, rubbing her thumb across your cheek. Every time she looked at you with that pain riddled smile it made your heart ache. You tried to kiss her but she angrily rejected you, you felt offended and left her to own devices for the day.

Besides you were busy, well when weren't you busy, Quill and Drax always broke something while Groot needed to annoy you in a new way. Then it hit you like a brick, didn’t Gamora and Mantis act similar recently maybe they know what’s happening.

You walked over to Gamora's room where they both sat holding up two different knives comparing them as girls did of course. You knocked on the open , they invite you in.

“Great timing Rocket who’s knife could kill more, mine or Gamoras?” Asked Mantis, Gamora huffed in agreement.

“Hmm probably Gamora's more sharp edges, anyway I didn’t come here to compare knives,” you said. They looked at you curiously, you rarely ask anything of them.

“Y/N is sick but I don’t know the cure, she’s acting how you two were a couple days ago, it looks like she got stabbed and she just really angry for no reason,” you explained worriedly, they look at each other giggling cracking up.

“Rocket, do you know about periods?” Gamora asks you, your head tilts in curiosity as she explains the horrific week she’s going through, the pounds of blood, the cramps and mood swings she and Mantis explained to their best abilities.

“So there ain’t no cure,”

“Nada”

“So how can I help her,”

Mantis retreats back to her room and Gamora gose her cupboard, she pulls out some Terran chocolates Quill got her and Mantis brings back an already hot water bottle.

“Give these to her and you’ll be her favourite forever,” Mantis says with Gamora agreeing.

“If she kills me im coming for you both,” You scowl at them, you quickly pace back to you room to see her curled up in her blanket groaning in pain watching her favourite show.

“You good Doll?” You ask rhetorically, she sits up ready to chew you out, she then sees the offereings and quickly snatches them to her side. Placing the hot water bottle on her stomach and nibbling on the chocolates she looks up to you gratefully.

You chuckle at her gremlin-like actions as you crawl next to her, in seconds she scoops you up into her embrace you now in your favourite seat, her lap. You turn your head to kiss her cheek but in seconds Quill bursts through the door.

“Hey why are you both being so lazy we’re got shit to do,” he demands you both get up. Y/N is about to kill him but you quickly stop her by throwing an empty water bottle at his head, you can hear it thunk off his head as he retreats scurrying out of the room.

Y/N can’t help but giggle at your tactics, while she hugs you arms wrapped around your chest she then plants a kiss on your cheek saying with a gentle smile.

“My Hero,” Y/N says praising you, your face can’t help but form a satisfied grin as you lean back into her arms.

My requests are still open if anyone has any ideas~

[nani-nonny]

Distorted Mirror ch.4 sneak peek

Leo’s skin shivers at the sound of Prime’s voice. He holds Michelangelo tighter, hugging the box turtle and scooting away. “D-,” Leo clears his throat after it cracks, “Don’t get any closer!”

Prime raises an amused brow, “It can speak.”

Leo pulls out his sword and flips it to shield Michelangelo’s back. “I can say the same to you,” Leo’s voice trails off as his eyes flicker to the storm, desperately searching for Donatello’s and Raphael’s signature glows. He fixes his sight back on Krang Prime when the alien creature shifts ever so slightly. Leo shifts the point of his sword to follow Prime, gripping the hilt tighter to hide the tremble in his hands.

“I mean,” Leo starts with a forced crack of a smile, “Have you looked in the mirror lately? What even are you?”

Leo glances down at the aged box turtle in his arms, groaning in pain and fighting desperately to shield him. The slider fishes a bandage from his medpack in his belt, but Michelangelo pushes his hand aside.

Bracing the floor, Michelangelo plants his feet flat on the ground before slowly, painfully rising to stand straight. [REDACTED]

“What are you doing?” Leo whispers but can only watch Michelangelo’s back and Krang Prime’s eyes that never stray, even when he slides behind the box turtle.

[REDACTED]

Leo’s eyes widen when he sees the purple manifestations in [REDACTED].

They’re on the move.

The mystic warrior’s palm rises, embers flicking into existence before igniting into furious flames. A smirk creeps onto his face, pupils disappearing from the warrior’s eyes and a golden glow emitting.

“You ready, Prime?”

I’m gonna hate myself for planning a big fight as a finale… it sounded so cool at first but I didn’t think about the fact I have to write it all down :( action scene here I come (send help /j)

Anyways, I really set myself up for failure by working on ch.4 in the midst of preparing for finals :) but I thought I’d share a sneak peek because I was able to get a couple hundred or thousand words written before I disappear again for a week or two lol. (Had to redact some script because spoilers)

[quarantineddreamer]

❄️💧 for the wip ask game! <3

Hi, Tina!! Thanks for the ask, friend <3

❄️ Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

Sorry this is kinda long but I was reading through this last night and I'm kind of (unusually) obsessed with it, must finish at some point! lol

As though summoned by thought the droid appeared in the cabin, glancing from Melshi and his beat up face to Liana and her sulky one.  “What is it, Kay?” Melshi asked, surprised and more than a little apprehensive by the droid’s uncharacteristic lack of words. (No doubt it didn’t mean anything good.)  “I came to check on you.” “We’re fine,” Melshi grunted, adjusting the positioning of the icepack.  “Cassian would not like it if you came back from a mission critically injured.” “It’s a good thing I’m not critically injured then.” “No,” K2 confirmed, his head whirring towards Liana, “but the prisoner did attack you before.” The agony pulsing through Melshi’s skull was getting worse by the second. He just had to assign the damn droid to the mission, he thought darkly. Who the fuck reprogrammed an Imperial droid anyways? He’d never understood that. The bloody thing gave him the creeps, yet Cassian was rarely seen walking around base without it.  “Sergeant?” K2 prompted.   “What? What the hell are you worried about?” Melshi snapped. “She’s in kriffing restraints for stars’ sake.” But Kay was still studying Liana like she was about to conjure a blaster out of thin air.  And to her credit, Hallik was staring back–a challenge in her eyes. With all the intonation of a doubtful frown in his robotic voice, Kay said, “She was in restraints before.” “Not when she bloody smacked me,” Melshi muttered, ignoring Liana Hallick’s amused smirk and reaching for the medpack.  He was going to need something much stronger than ice if he had any hope of making it back to base with his sanity intact.

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

From the fic I was writing for smut week that I still don't know if I'll ever finish 😅 (writers who write smut i am in awe of you it is so challenging for me!!)

He barely manages to dodge the kick, takes the elbow to his shoulder instead of his cheek. He tries again to reason with her, each word punctuated by another blow, “I. Thought. We. Were. Talking. About. This.”  “Because” she throws a hook to his right flank, “of what,” an uppercut grazes his jaw, “I mean,” a roundhouse kick lands on his hip, “to you?!” Jyn’s foot snags on the knot of his towel, freeing it from his waist and throwing her off balance just enough for him to catch the fist she has aimed at his middle. Before she can counter, he grabs her other arm, forces both her wrists behind her back. If she were any enemy, this is the part where he’d bind her hands, step away. But she’s not, and he’s short on cuffs, so for the second time that night, Cassian finds himself holding her in his arms, pinned face to face, chest to chest.  Except now, he’s completely naked–and undeniably turned on. 

Ask me about a WIP

[phasmattack]

Visitors (a 65 story) Chapter 4: Beginnings

Read Chapter 3

Pairing: Captain Mills x Fem Reader

Fic Summary: 65 million years ago, Captain Mills (played by Adam Driver) crashes a passenger transport ship into Earth during the Cretaceous period. You are among three survivors of the crash. Together with Mills, you must make your way to the only shot of extraction through an unknown terrain riddled with deadly prehistoric creatures.

Fic Masterlist

Read on Ao3

___

Mills

Ammo, rations, click bombs, medpacks, water jugs, perimeter spikes, rope, navigational unit. Mills mentally checks the boxes as he shoves the necessities into his large canvas pack and a few of the lighter goods into a smaller pack for you. He lifts the weapon off its charging stand, checking that the sensor reads a full charge. Slinging it onto his shoulder, he returns to the cockpit a final time to issue an updated (and far less bleak) message to the potential rescue crew.

“This is Commander Mills of Charter 373. I’ve located two survivors; a child and…” he pauses, glancing over his shoulder to see you sitting cross legged on the ground with Koa, trying to coax her into eating a ration, “and a woman. They’re uninjured. The atmosphere here is breathable, but the land seems to be difficult to traverse and full of hostiles. I will be escorting them to the crash site of our escape pod to meet at your coordinates.”

He puts down the communicator, and walks up to you and Koa. You stand and he hands you the smaller pack. Koa stays seated, so he sighs and squats down to her level.

“Koa,” He tells her, “I need you to listen to me. You understand? Listen?” He points to his ear. She nods.

“There’s something alien out there,” He meets your eyes, “something dangerous.”

He watches you shudder, smoothing down the goosebumps on your arms, and based on Koa’s reaction he figures she gets the gist.

“We need to be quiet,” He puts a finger to his lips, and Koa repeats the gesture, “and move.” He motions a flat hand sideways, and she does the same. Mills nods to her, searching her innocent eyes for any hesitation. He offers her a hand and she accepts, using him as leverage to stand.

“You ready?” He turns to face you. Your hand adjusts the strap of the pack slung across your back.

“Ready.” You return confidently, with a small shake in your voice. He gestures for Koa to depart down the ramp first, with you closely following. As you pass him his eyes drop to your new attire.

“Are-” He stutters, trying to make sense of this confusing feeling, “are those my pants?”

“Ah, yeah…” You answer, a tinge of blush spreading up your neck and to your cheeks, “mine were pretty tattered, I hope that’s okay?”

He opens his mouth to reply but before he can speak you slip in, “I-I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. I can go change out of them quick!”

“No!” He tries to cover the unintended force of his voice with an awkward cough, “No. It’s fine.”

“Okay.” Your face grows a deeper shade of red before you quickly turn and follow Koa down the ramp. A small smile creeps onto his face that he has to force off, reminding himself that this is an inappropriate time for these thoughts.

____

The humidity of the forest was unexpected, sweat beads down Mills’s forehead and pools on his lower back as he clears a path for your group and carefully eyes your surroundings. You’re making good time, his navigational unit read that the escape pod was 15 kilometers north and you’ve already cleared 2 kilometers, only stopping once for water.

He swats a hand around his head as he pushes through a swarm of insects, clapping one against the back of his neck when he feels a bite. His hand returns covered in stringy guts and slime, earning a gagging sound from you and a melodic laugh from Koa. He grins, turning on his heel and holding his hand out like a zombie towards Koa.

She shrieks with laughter and darts away from him, hitting the deck and hiding behind your legs.

“Oh no you don’t” You giggle, separating your legs to reveal her hiding place. He crawls between them and chases her away with the threat of his filthy hand, bucking you up onto his back in the process. You squeal in surprise, arms flailing as you slide back down to your feet.

His arms go flailing too when he trips over a well concealed root and lands smack on his back. This turns Koa’s giggles into a roar of laughter. He shoots her a dirty look but hints a smile while he scrapes his sticky hand against the root.

The small moment of normalcy is interrupted by the desperate screech of an animal, like a high pitched cry for help. You all freeze, and Koa mutters something unintelligible before darting away from you and Mills and towards the bellowing creature.

“Koa!” You yell to her as Mills echoes, “Stop!”

He jumps to his feet and goes flying after her, jumping over roots and shoving through brush, with you right behind. He rounds a tree after Koa and finds her kneeling before a pit of some sort of tar-like substance that has trapped a young creature. It’s the size of a large dog, with a hard armored shell and small tusks. Koa cries out as she grips the animal, using all her strength to pull him free of the tar.

“Koa,” Mills warns, crashing to his knees, “This is not a good idea.”

He glances around instinctively looking for the creature’s mother, and watches as you join Koa’s side and help her yank on the animal.

“Mills!” You plead.

He swears and grabs onto the creature’s rear, giving it one final boost out of the pit. You all collapse, out of breath. Koa claps her hands in celebration and watches the young beast stomp away unharmed. Mills shakes his head and meets your eyes, giving you a questioning look. You just shrug in reply.

The sharp roars of several predators echo as they burst from the bushes, attacking the newly freed young animal. Mills is thrown into action and grabs Koa by the stomach, pulling her against a tree and throwing a hand over her mouth as she sobs in terror. He clamps his hand to muffle her cries. He holds back the urge to yell for you, his breath catching until he spots you behind another tree on the other side of the carnage. Your frightened eyes meet his and you scoot further behind the tree.

Satisfied from their hunt, the predatory creatures become more interested in the sound of crunched leaves from behind your tree. Mills weighs his options as he sees them creep towards your hiding place. He could make some kind of distraction, but that would put Koa at risk. He could leave her against this tree and pray she doesn’t make a squeak while he defends you, surprising the creatures. His chest heaves and his mind races, time to make a decision coming to an end as they inch closer to discovering you there, defenseless. He makes a move to stand, Koa gripping against him, when the deafening cry of an desperate mother searching for her child spooks the pack of predators enough to chase them off. They run, dragging away their prize meal.

As soon as the coast is clear, Mills stumbles over himself running in your direction with Koa in tow. When he reaches you, you’re steadying yourself on the tree with a hand on your chest trying to slow your heart.

“Are you okay?” He pants, eyes darting all over you looking for injuries.

“I’m okay,” You promise, giving a weak smile to reassure him. He clears his throat, reaching back to pull Koa towards him. He holds her face in his hands, wiping away stray tears with his thumbs.

“You HAVE to listen to me,” He begs her, “do you understand?!”

She sniffles, “ah-ti la kay.”

Mills takes that as a yes. He turns around and scoops her onto his back, ensuring that she won’t be dashing off anytime soon. He looks at you, silently asking if you’re ready to continue on. You take a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other.

____

Mills falls in step behind you, his footprints dwarfing yours as he follows your trail. Stopping every now and then to relocate the signal, you both forge ahead with much higher levels of caution. Koa is asleep atop Mill’s back, and after hours of carrying her he’s grown so used to the extra weight he doesn’t even notice it.

“I’m sorry I had to lie to her.” He speaks, the first words between you since picking up your journey. He keeps replaying your look of surprise at him, hinted with disappointment, when he told Koa her parents were at the mountain’s peak.

“It’s complicated.” You reassure him, “She’ll thank you one day.”

“Even if she could understand me, I’m not sure I would’ve had the heart to tell her.” He admits, “How do I explain to a kid that she’s just become an orphan?”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re saving her life.”

He pauses. “Did you have anyone? In the crash?”

You shake your head. “No. I was traveling alone.”

He’s silent, leaving you an opportunity to explain without prying.

“I-” You hesitate, clearly choosing words carefully, “I was leaving. Starting a new job, a new life. I wanted to start over.”

“Can’t get a fresher start than halfway across the galaxy.” He jokes, gauging your reaction. You chuckle. “My thoughts exactly.”

During this short conversation you’ve fallen back from walking ahead of Mills to beside him. He watches you as you say, “I saw a picture back on the ship of your daughter. She’s beautiful.”

He visibly stiffens, eyes glazing over. “Yeah. Yeah she is.”

You seem to cringe to yourself for tapping on such a sensitive topic, and he mentally kicks himself for coldly cutting the conversation short because of it. It’s just that he hasn’t spoken about Nevine to anyone since starting this job almost two years ago. He usually prefers not to even dwell on her in his own mind.

As if slicing through the tension, the navigational unit beeps twice and warns ‘SIGNAL LOST’. You both come to a stop as Mills rips it off his pack and presses buttons, trying to reset the signal. The unit buzzes in response, and repeats ‘SIGNAL LOST’.

“Damn it.” He huffs, smacking his palm against the unit. Unsurprisingly, this does nothing to help. He squints up at the thick treeline above you.

“I’ve gotta get higher ground. Stay here.” He instructs, slinging off his pack and weapon and handing both to you. He tucks the navigational unit in his pocket and wipes his hands on his pants, readying himself to scale one of the massive trees. He climbs branch by branch, testing the sturdiness of each with a foot before committing his weight to it. He constantly peers down at you and Koa to check on you, and when he’s satisfied you’re not in imminent danger he pulls himself up another foot.

Small branches scrape his skin as he pushes through the treeline, giving himself a clear view of the mountain to the north. He’s relieved to see that you’ve made some progress, the escape pod is finally in his line of sight. He hooks a hand into a crook in the tree to hold himself while his other hand digs out the unit from his pocket. Flipping it open, he scans the pod in the distance. ‘SIGNAL ACQUIRED’ it beeps. Mills breathes a sigh of relief.

As he moves to close the unit, it beeps another message ‘IRREGULARITY DETECTED’.

“What the hell?” He zooms the screen out, following the red line until it leads him to a large body of rock in the distant sky. That’s gotta be part of the asteroid belt that took out the ship. The rock is too distant for him to scan the path of, so he makes a mental note to check it again later. Flipping the navigational unit closed, he slips it back in his pocket and shifts his weight to begin climbing down.

He feels a strange sensation when he removes his hand from the crook of the tree and looks up to see his hand covered in what looks to be spiders on steroids. Mills jolts, lifting his hand to shake them off as the sudden movement causes the branch he’s standing on to snap. He yells, clawing at the trunk of the tree to find any spot to grip but he’s unsuccessful. Mills careens down further and further, snapping branch by branch on his fall until his body slams, the sounds of bones cracking and a powerful thud as he lands right in front where you sit waiting for him.

Chapter 5

[annwayne]

Delayed Fate - A Story from The Red Logs

Chapter 2/3

Last Chapter <- -> Next Chapter

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 1500

Fic Summary:

Written for the Love & Lust Flash Fic Contest in The Erotica Abyss (chapter 2)

After splitting up a fight between two clones in her bar, Anya finds herself in the company of the most interesting clone she's ever come across-and she's known a *lot* of clones. (And if you squint-plot)

Or

How Anya and Crosshair's fates first intertwined.

AO3 Link

Warnings for whole fic:

Violence, Injury, Blood, At Home Medical Treatment, Biting, Praise, Gloves, Dom/Sub undertones, PinV sex, Oral Sex (F & M Receiving), Fingering

Authors Note:

Chapter two! What is straddling the line between love and lust like strangers caring for each other while being very horny for each other? Yeah. Smut comes next chapter.

I sat on the edge of the large blue couch in my living room. Behind me, at the hall closet, Crosshair worked on retrieving my medpack from the mountain it was buried underneath. He told me to wait on the couch after I pointed out the box we needed. A knot of anxiety and embarrassment twisted in my stomach. What was the chance he was doing this out of obligation? Because he pitied me, saw me as some broken speeder–Loud purring interrupted my downward spiral. 

Stinky, my old Tooka, slept peacefully with his face planted against my thigh. He wasn’t always the most physically affectionate pet, but somehow he always knew when I was in pain and acted accordingly; lots of cuddling. 

Then a flash on my caff table caught my eye. I reached over and tapped my personal communicator awake, causing profiles to pop up as it rolled through all my unread messages. Jayas asked if I was okay. His husband, Gabe, checked in a few minutes later because I never answered Jayas. Lynn let me know she could come in early tomorrow if I needed it. And, sprinkled throughout them all, there were messages from identical faces with near-identical questions. 

“Free tonight?”  “I’m on leave tonight, message me if you want to meet up.”  “Still up?”

A pit grew in my stomach as I watched the cycle begin anew. Before it could get far into the loop, I switched the screen to Jayas’ profile and sent him a two word message: 

“All good.” 

Then I switched the device off. 

 Crosshair came over just as I leaned back into the couch, medpack in hand. “Popular?” He asked as he sat down beside me. 

I scoffed, though heat rushed to my cheeks. “Popular is generous. Three of those were colleagues.”

“And the string of clones all asking if you’re free tonight?” My head jerked up. “I��ve got good eyes.” He answered the question on my lips.

My jaw clenched closed. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions battled within my chest. Panic rose, only to crash hard into shame by confidence’s hand. This is what normal people do–no one bats an eye at sleeping around. I let out a slow breath. “They’re good company.”

Crosshair looked up from the medkit and regarded me. Something between curiosity and intrigue pulled around his eyes. He studied my expression with a scrutiny I hadn’t seen since… Well, what mattered was how he looked at me. Strangers didn’t look at each other like this. Like he knew there were walls surrounding me, but hadn’t decided yet if I was worth tearing them down.  

I looked away first. “We’ll need bacta patches, disinfectant spray, and some bandages.” Rustling followed my words. When I thought he’d be looking away I glanced back up at him. His own busted lip and bruised cheek could use some bacta, but his focus was all on me.

“Alright.” Crosshair said once he pulled out the supplies. “Your shirt needs to come off.” 

“Yeah.” I looked down at myself. There was no way I could do this without hurting my shoulder, so I braced myself and—

“May I?” Crosshair asked in a low voice before I could move. 

“Uh. Yeah.” His offer caught me off guard.

At my consent, Crosshair slid closer so our knees brushed. Then he leaned in close and lifted up my shirt by the hem. First he helped guide my left arm free. Occasionally my skin brushed the soft fabric of his glove as I moved. With one arm free he had an easier time sliding the shirt over my head, yet his gaze was still fixed with great focus. With the final arm left, he leaned down so he could guide the fabric past my hand without harming my shoulder. I was left with only a tight bandeau to protect my modesty. 

He lifted his head to meet my gaze. At this angle his eyes were bigger, softer, and so deep I thought I could fall forever in their dark embrace. “Thanks.” I finally spoke. 

“No problem.” He answered. Then he straightened back up and laid my shirt down on the caff table.

Heat rushed up my cheeks after the unusually tender moment. But the chill of the apartment’s cooling system helped stave it off. Stinky’s purring and the low hum of speeders passing outside filled the space between us. Normally, quiet was dangerous. But this time I found a different distraction to silence unwanted thoughts.

 Crosshair sat beside me again, his face turned towards the pile of items he’d taken from the medkit. Focus knit his brows together–or maybe that was the same confusion I felt–as his long fingers twisted the cap off the disinfectant spray. I watched as his eyes returned to my shoulder. Those eyes demanded attention in a way that had me asking how much of his gaze was solely business? He half stood, one leg supporting him from the ground and the other balancing him on the couch, and then sprayed three times along my shoulder. Front, top, and back, now primed for bacta patches. 

As the cold spray settled on my skin I hissed in a sharp breath. Crosshair sat back down and caught my eye, checking if pain was the source of my objection. “Just cold.” I answered him.

“Bacta will be colder.”

A displeased groan left me. “I know. Just. Distract me.” 

His lips pulled into what would be a smirk, if not for the gash that split the lower one. “How would you like me to distract you?” 

“Talk. Or ask me something so I can talk.”

Crosshair nodded as he grabbed the first patch. “Alright.” He said as he removed the backing. “Does the ‘good company’ know you have more than one lover?”

“Worried about your brothers?” I chuckled. His dry expression told me that wasn’t why he asked. “Yes, they know.”

Again, he sat up, hovering over me for better view of my shoulder. But it also meant I couldn’t see his face when he asked, “Are you going to call one of them after I leave?” 

Involuntary blush spread across my cheeks, betraying the calm in my voice. “Depends on when you leave.” The night was still young. My options were open, though, I knew what I wanted to happen. 

The first patch stung like ice pricks and sent a shiver down my spine. “Do you want me to leave?” He continued, picking up the next patch and removing the film that protected it.

No more beating around the bush. I looked him up and down, catching butterflies as I did. “No.” The tension around his eyes relaxed at my answer and the clone looked as pleased with himself now as he did in the office. “I have a question for you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will yOU-” The second patch caught my breath. “Will you let me repay the favor?” I asked once the shock had settled. 

“I don’t need–”

“I know you don’t need help. But I’m offering. Not just offering, I want to, since you’re helping me.” 

Crosshair let out a dry laugh. “I’m the one that hurt you. Helping you put on a few bandages is just polite.”

“See.” I smirked up at him. “A polite guy wouldn’t get punched over a game of darts.”

He gave me a glare–though I was certain he was holding back the worst of it given how naturally his face fell into the expression. “I could just leave you to finish by yourself.” Finally, the last patch of cold was pressed into my skin.  

“Will you?” 

Crosshair answered with a pleased look before reaching for the roll of bandages. He gently pulled the gauze around my shoulder, wrapping the bacta patches in place, with a practice hand. 

“Thanks.” 

He nodded once.

“So.” His eyes flicked to me. “Can I return the favor?” 

“If you’re so eager.” He settled back against the couch cushion. 

“Just pass me the kit.” A grin slipped through my words. He obliged. “Thank you.”

He nodded his head once. 

From the medkit I pulled out a small jar of transparent blue-tinted jelly. Then, I sprayed his injuries and (with mild discomfort) my good hand before shifting onto my knees so that I was taller than him. 

Despite the chill of the apartment, warmth spread through my body as I gently rubbed the bacta into his cheek with my fingertips. He closed his eyes and his brows relaxed as I worked the medicine in, revealing the softest expression I’d seen so far. A flutter skipped over my heart. At his lip I was careful not to slip my digits into his mouth despite how often the image came to mind. Once the bacta was fully rubbed in I dropped my hand. But I didn’t sit back down. Crosshair opened his eyes at my hesitation.

“Problem?” 

“Depends.” He raised a brow in question. “Are you leaving?” 

“No.”

“Then there’s no problem.” I leaned down and kissed him.

Dividers by Djarrex