#Alert Ramp

[nocternalrandomness]

"Christmas Tree"

[slytherverse]

i say this in all seriousness, a great way to resist the broad cultural shift of devaluing curiosity and critical thinking is to play my favorite game, Hey What Is That Thing

you play it while walking around with friends and if you see something and don't know what it is or wonder why its there, you stop and point and say Hey What Is That Thing. and everyone speculates about it. googling it is allowed but preferably after spending several minutes guessing or asking a passerby about it

weird structures, ambiguous signs, unfamiliar car modifications, anything that you can't immediately understand its function. eight times out of ten, someone in the group actually knows, and now you know!

a few examples from me and my friends the past few weeks: "why is there a piece of plywood sticking out of that pond in a way that looks intentional?" (its a ramp so squirrels that fall in to the pond can climb out) • "my boss keeps insisting i take a vacation of nine days or more, thats so specific" (you work at a bank, banks make employees take vacation in long chunks so if youre stealing or committing fraud, itll be more obvious) • "why does this brick wall have random wooden blocks in it" (theres actually several reasons why this could be but we asked and it was so you could nail stuff to the wall) • "most of these old factories we drive past have tinted windows, was that just for style?" (fun fact the factory owners realized that blue light keeps people awake, much like screen light does now, so they tinted the windows blue to keep workers alert and make them work longer hours)

been playing this game for a long time and ive learned (and taught) a fuckton about zoning laws, local history, utilities (did you know you can just go to your local water treatment plant and ask for a tour and if they have a spare intern theyll just give you a tour!!!) and a whole lot of fun trivia. and now suddenly you're paying more attention when youre walking around, thinking about the reasons behind every design choice in the place you live that used to just be background noise. and it fuckin rules.

[feral-renaissance-cat]

Not only did I clean parking garages (including underground ones) for a student job, but I was in a thriller short film my friend directed in one and can confirm when it’s super early or super late and the garage is practically empty and then you hear a Noise that was not proceeded by the sound of a car entering or a stairwell door opening, the acoustics make it so hard to tell where the Noise came from and suddenly you are all too aware of how many pillars are obscuring your vision and how few escape vectors you actually have. Worse if it’s one of those underground garages where the stairwell doors don’t open from the outside because it would be That Much Harder for help to arrive if you started screaming.

underground parking garages are criminally underutilized as a horror setting. windowless curving concrete labyrinths stretching up and down and all around you, that's some Backrooms shit

[sayruq]

9 countries out of the 27 EU members recognise Palestine. A few days ago, several officials from Spain and Ireland confirmed that there's a plan in place for their countries (along with others) to recognise Palestine in the month of May.

This is how Israel responds to the report

The Lemkin Institute for Genocide has issued a genocide alert for the West Bank last month as Israel ramps up mass expulsions of Palestinians to make way for new settlements. These threats are genocidal.

[rowarn]

bizarre thought.....shadow entity!ghost..... @sgtgarricks is responsible for this!!!

i already want to write another part to this LMAOOOOOOO

part : two

when you first moved into your new house, you knew it was old and had been vacant for a looooong time. it had a bizarre history of people living there and moving out months, even weeks later. most people declined offering a reason for their quick move but others would just vaguely supply that the 'energy was dark in that house', you weren't bothered.

it was a nice, big, house and for damn cheap too. you weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

your first nights in the house, you understood what they meant. there was something off about the house for sure. at random times, you would feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, as if alerting you to danger. when you would turn around, there was nothing there. but it would leave you with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

it wasn't until a week into your new life that the first weird thing happened. it was like something from a stereotypical horror movie. you heard a strange sound and got out of bed to investigate. when you got to your kitchen, all the cabinets and drawers were open and your kitchen chairs were placed on top of your table -- which had also been moved across the kitchen.

you tried to take some deep breaths to calm yourself as you returned everything back to normal. you went over and over in your head for some kind of explanation for the event before finally landing on the fact that this house was fucking haunted.

strange events kept happening after that. lights would turn on, your kitchen cabinets would be open, sinks and showers would turn on, doors would slam from across the house. you were losing sleep over it. every single night you'd be woken up by some strange event and you were beginning to understand why the past tenants had moved out so fast.

this was a rotten way to live.

the final straw for you was the night the activity really seemed to ramp up. whatever spirit was haunting you wanted you out now. multiple doors slammed, jolting you from your sleep -- your heart racing from how hard you had been startled from your dreams. you got to your feet and turned on your lamp only to find it wasn't working.

next, you tried the overhead light. same thing.

fuck. it had caused the power to bust.

now you were really scared.

you grabbed your phone, using the flashlight to navigate your way out of the bedroom. the floorboards creaked beneath you, considerably louder without the hum of electricity.

you were halfway down the hall when you heard it. quiet at first, but definitely there. footsteps. mimicking your own, as if echoing after you took your own steps, making sure you knew it was there.

you spun around, shining the light upon nothing. you let out a heavy breath, noticing the way the flashlight shook from how hard you were trembling.

"a-alright, ghost," you called into the empty house, too scared to feel stupid that you were talking to nothing, "i-i'll admit i'm pretty scared right now. i-i know you probably want me out of your house. this is your house, i get it. bu-but i already sunk all my damn savings into moving in here s-so i can't leave!" you swallow, a loud gulping sound that would be funny if you weren't about to piss yourself, "s-so if we could just live together for a little while longer. i-i promise i'll get out the second i have the money!"

there was nothing but tense silence. you felt like an idiot the more seconds that passed. were you trying to make a deal with a fucking ghost? a spirit of someone who probably died in this house? what kind of shit had your life become?

you peered into the inky blackness of the hallway, blinking as you try to futilely see. it takes you a moment to realize you're not just staring into the darkness of your hallway. it's something else.

pure darkness. a dark entity taking form in the blackness of the night. you want to step back, primal fear coursing through you like you never felt before. whatever fear you were feeling was primordial in nature -- as if this entity was something you were born to fear.

the darkness began to swallow up the hallway, eating away at the light your flashlight had created. the air felt heavy and oppressive, making it difficult to take in oxygen.

you swear you could feel hands on you, grabbing you and pulling at you. the longer you stared into the darkness, the more you thought you could see things. eyes. hundreds of eyes. but when you blinked, the images vanished.

then, all at once, the entity was gone and your light was shining down the hallway again unimpeded. after another second, the sound of the electricity slamming back on filled the house and you collapsed to your knees.

whatever that was, it was dangerous. you knew that now.

but it didn't hurt you. perhaps it agreed to your terms and would leave you be now?

oh how wrong you were. sure, it wasn't nearly as scary as that night but now you saw it.

around every turn.

you could see the shadow take shape from the corner of your eye but when you looked, it would be gone. you would be brushing your teeth and when you looked in the mirror, it stood behind you, making your heart leap out of your chest. when you would turn, it wasn't there.

you were no longer woken up in the night, at least. but you weren't sure if you preferred the regular haunting stuff to seeing the ghost or not. you were on the fence about which was worse.

after another scare from the ghost, you jumped so hard that you almost fell over, "alright you -- ghost! will you quit scaring me like that!?" you found yourself shrieking.

to your abject horror, you heard laughter in return.

the shadow shit was fucking laughing at you. like it was enjoying this.

it wasn't evil laughter either. it sounded like pure enjoyment.

you suppose it wasn't out of the realm of possibility for a ghost to make sounds but it didn't make it any less horrifying.

you started talking to it more after that. once you heard its voice - sort of- it became easier. the fear also dissipated in time. sure it would jump scare you from time to time to get a laugh but other than that, it became like living with a really annoying roommate.

"will you get out of my mirror!" you snapped, mouth full of toothpaste with you facemask on. its disappearance was marked with its mirthful laughter.

you also noticed as the days and weeks passed, it stopped looking like a shapeless shadow and more like a person -- a big one at least. well over 7 feet tall. if you looked for long enough, you could almost make out what you think is a skull where the face would be on a human.

one night, you're laying in bed, comfortable. there's rain pelting outside on your window and distant thunder, too nice of weather to sleep away. so you just choose to relax and listen to it.

"ghost?" you find yourself calling into the darkness, "are you there?"

its silent but you feel the air grow heavy and you know that it's arrived. it seems to have...consciousness, you realized. it reacts to you and listens to you. there's one thing that's been plaguing you that you want to ask, though you're not sure if it will answer -- if it can answer.

"you're not really a ghost are you?" you ask.

you're greeted by silence for several, long seconds before you hear it. it's deep and masculine, a whisper of an echo following its voice when it speaks as if multiple things were speaking but only one voice was amplified, "no."

it's the answer you were expecting but that didn't mean you liked it. you swallow harshly around the lump of anxiety in your throat.

"are you going to hurt me?" you ask it, dreading the answer to this one. just because it's been toying with you doesn't mean it's not still dangerous.

"no," it responds again. you can hear footsteps, the entity walking closer and closer to your bed.

you let out a relieved breath at that. though, you're not sure if you should actually believe the dark entity that lives in your house. but at this point, you've really got no choice except to take it's word for it.

"what's your name?" you find yourself asking it.

"ghost," it responds quickly.

you laugh at that, "no, you're real name."

"ghost," it insist, "you gave me a name."

a lightbulb goes off over your head.

"is that why you're being so nice to me?" you ask, not sure if 'nice' is the appropriate word to use.

"i wanted a name," it answers, "you gave me one."

"a name in exchange for living in this house," you muse, deciding to roll over in bed, "alright then. goodnight, ghost."

"rest well," it responds before vanishing, freeing the room from that oppressive feeling.

you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep, briefly wondering where ghost even came from and what exactly it was.

this is unedited i wrote it in a fury of inspiration i hope u enjoyed it regardless of how WEIRD this was LMFAOOOOOOOOOO

[st0ryf1lms]

is it really you? ➳ ken sato

pairing: ken sato x reader

word count: 866

genre/warnings: fluff, sort of a crack fic, 3+1 things, wrote this with a sarcastic tone LMAO, a bit of profanity, grammatical errors most likely (wrote this at 1AM), reader uses fem pronouns

synopsis: the 3 times kenji sato swore he saw you, and the 1 time he actually saw you.

a/n: yes, i'm finally giving in to the kenji sato brainrot HUHUHUH if i had known he was the reason my writer's block would disappear, would've watched the movie sooner i'm ngl edit: AAAAAA WHAT 600+ NOTES??? U GUYS ARE INSANEEE I LOVE YOU ALL this is now up on my ao3!!

At the New Tokyo Dome at his first game as a Giants player

Maybe he was just dreaming, maybe it was the fatigue actually catching up to him ever since he hopped off that plane, or maybe he did actually see you in that stadium amongst the crowd cheering his name. You, as in his childhood best friend, arguably one of the best parts of his childhood in Japan before leaving for LA. You, as in the childhood best friend he never got to say a proper goodbye to. You, as in the childhood best friend whom he always missed and cried to his mom about whenever he'd get homesick. (You, as in the childhood best friend he'd harbored a secret crush on as a kid. As an adult? Psh, what sane person gets hung up on a person who must've forgotten him all those years ago. Not Ken Sato, for sure, yeah, uh-huh.) He'd never know for certain, of course, because as he was about to stop and look, a Kaiju crashed a KDF plane into the ceiling of the stadium.

KAIJU ALERT, his watch blared in an angry red face. He sighed, making his way to the nearest stadium exit and heading towards the dimly-lit part of the street by the stadium. Not without stopping for a split second because he thought he saw your silhouette. Silhouette, really? My God, Kenji, pull yourself together, he told himself. Of course, that wouldn’t be your silhouette because he definitely doesn’t know what you look like anymore, what food you like, what your job is, how you held up after he left for LA. Of course, he doesn’t know that.

Shaking off any more thoughts of you, Kenji turned into his giant alter-ego to fight off the Kaiju wreaking havoc on the streets of Tokyo. (a distraction, really, as Mina would say.)

2. On a grocery run looking exhausted as hell.

It had been two weeks since he took in the baby kaiju in his basement and Kenji Sato has never been more exhausted. If you ask him, exhausted would be an understatement. Nevertheless, his mind was actually alive (much to Mina's surprise) because he swears this time, that he actually saw you. With his own two eyes. As if locked in a daze, he secretly followed you like a lost puppy with a push cart in the grocery store before realizing you were heading for the exit. He stopped in his tracks as the doors opened for you, realizing the items he got weren't paid for yet.

Begrudgingly, he went back inside the grocery and got the rest of the items he needed before going back to his house.

Next time, I swear, I'll talk to her, Kenji said to himself as he drove back to his place.

3. During Emi's acid reflux rampage.

Shit, shit, shit, he cursed to himself like a mantra as he zoomed across the streets of Tokyo on his bike, trying to chase after the pink baby kaiju that somehow escaped his basement that he explicitly placed under the care of Mina (in case you couldn’t tell, he's definitely glaring at his AI assistant). Looking at the construction site beside him as he sat in traffic, an idea popped in his head. He could use that to give him a boost to quickly get to the baby. He rode up the makeshift ramp and turned into his giant alter-ego, catching his bike in time.

"Holy shit." He froze. Goddammit, had he really been that careless? Changing in front of a civilian? Nervously chuckling, he turned around to face the owner of the voice, mentally preparing his response [read: excuse] only to be wide-eyed and speechless. The owner of the voice was you. You, as in his childhood best friend, whom he's been trying to catch up with ever since he landed in Japan.

"What the fuck! Ultraman is Ke-" You exclaimed before you got rudely interrupted by the giant superhero. "Hey, shhh! Can we, like, stay quiet on this matter? I know I don't have an NDA right now but my bike will suffice, I guess. I'll get it back from you, I swear, I just really have to take care of this right now. Treat you to our usual spot? Thanks!" He said frantically before running away to take care of his huge baby problem.

Not really the best way to reconnect with your childhood best friend.

+1. After the battle at sea with the KDF.

"Hey, sorry for being late, had to take care of something." He apologized as he jogged up to you on your usual hang-out spot when you were children. You reassured him, saying that you had just arrived, too. "I didn't know what kinda stuff you eat now as an athlete superstar so I just went for the safest convenience store options." You said sheepishly, holding up the plastic bags with a weary smile. "I don't mind, I actually like convenience store snacks." He beamed on how you still remember what he used to like as a kid.

"So, Ken Sato, gonna explain?"

"Oh, you're gonna want to sit down for this."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Unity

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: You wake up on an unknown planet with a powerful Force wielder offering to help you hone in on your Force abilities.

Qimir Masterlist

You wake with a jolt, your eyes wide and filled with fear. You slowly sit up and take in your surroundings. You're in a cave but you're not sure where or why. You think back on what you remember last: Qimir showing up, him leading you to his ship, and then darkness.

"What the kriff, Qimir?" you mumble to yourself. You slide out of the makeshift bed and take a look around. Light shines through the crevices of the cave. There's another bed spread a short distance from yours as well as a pot with some sort of stew in it.

"You're awake," you hear a deep modulated voice and you turn. A man donning a black cloak and helmet stands in the entrance of the cave.

You gulp and ask, "Where's Qimir?"

"Off on a mission."

"And Mae?"

"Both of them are on a mission."

"...so we're alone," you state with a hint of fear.

The man cocks his head to the side, "I'm sure Qimir has told you I promised not to hurt you. I intend to keep my word."

He slowly stalks towards you. The hair on the back of your neck stands in alertness as he begins to circle around you. Your fists are clenched and you're trying to keep a level head.

"You're afraid," the masked stranger states.

"I was knocked out and taken to a mysterious planet and now have a powerful Force wielder circling me like an ice vulture. Anyone with a sensible brain would be afraid."

"You came willingly."

You can't help but scoff, "Qimir and Mae both stated that if I didn't go to you, you would come to me. I'd rather go to you than risk those around me of potential danger."

"Admirable, yet you're still afraid." With a flick of the stranger's wrist, a pot comes hurling your way, and you hold out your hand to cover your face. The impact doesn't come as the pot is suspended in the air.

You gasp, stepping back and dropping your hand, resulting in the pot to collapse to the ground with a clang. You immediately look back at the man who continues to stare at you. His helmet has no visor. You're not sure how he can see. It's crafted in a way that it creates some sort of devilish smile that leaves you unsettled.

"You possess a great ability. It's a shame you've gone this long unable to properly wield it."

"I'm not interested in being a Jedi-"

"Who said I was a Jedi?" you don't answer and he continues, "I can teach you the ways of the Force that aren't restrictive like the Jedi. I can help you reach your full potential. You have a gift, Y/N, you should learn how to use it. Let me help you," he holds out his hand and you look at it.

Your brows furrow and you suddenly look up, remembering that very same hand reached out to you, the very same hand that lead you up the ramp to the ship. That hand that gently cupped your face and made you fall into darkness.

Your breathing hitches and you slowly back away, "Qimir?"

The hand closes and slowly drops to the man's side, "I'm impressed." The man reaches up and lifts the helmet off him to reveal Qimir, "Not even my own apprentice has figured it out yet." He takes a step forward and you step back. He holds his hands up, "I told you, I won't hurt you."

"I'm so confused. Why-What do you want with me? Has this been a game to you or something?"

"I assure you, when I first walked into your shop, I was only there for the poison. However, there was something about you that kept me wanting to come back. To see you. I now know why. You have the Force. I can train you and-"

"You already have Mae-"

"You're different. Mae is my apprentice. You...You will be my equal. Together, we can make a difference," he slowly steps towards you and you remain unmoved. He takes your right hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. He repeats the same gesture with your left hand.

There's a faint buzzing sensation coarsing through you. You look at your intertwined hands and then at Qimir, who's smirking at you.

"See? How does it feel?"

"Strange...yet, comforting."

"Imagine how it'll feel when you become more familiar with the Force. How good it'll feel to be strong and powerful. Imagine it, Y/N," Qimir says with a whisper as he leans forward pressing his forehead against yours.

The air around you shifts and vibrates. It's a sensation you never felt before but you can already tell how addicting it is. It's as if you can see, hear, and feel everything around you and how much power they all contain.

"Stay with me," Qimir, "Be my equal."

You remain still as you gather your thoughts. You have never left Batuu until now. You always yearned for more than being just a shop owner. Despite being good at making concoctions and the occasional healing, you felt like you could be so much more than that.

You step back, peeling yourself from Qimir to look him in the eyes and say, "I want to be your equal."

He breaks into a wide grin, an eagerness in his eyes and a hint of something else you couldn't quite place.

[joelsbloodyhands]

Envy on Endor

SUMMARY: Din gets jealous when you cuddle an ewok

WARNINGS: None just Din being a jealous tin-man 😌 however if you don’t like cuddling, this is not the fic for you.

A/N: Let’s be honest, how can you not want to cuddle an Ewok? Also, there’s no way in hell Din would ACTUALLY just let you pull him up to a treehouse. That man would have you thrown over his shoulder so quick- (I need to stop before I re-write this fic) 😫 also I should mention Din probably knows what ewoks are but for the sake of this fic and my sanity, let’s all pretend he has no clue (since it wouldn’t be a surprise anyway considering how he barely understands what a Jedi is) 🤭

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader is in an established romantic relationship with Din. Reader has parent relationship with Grogu (no gendered title used). Reader does not have a visible disability.

“I can’t fathom why you’re terrified of Porgs and not of Ewoks,” Din sighs as you laugh excitedly at the fluffy creatures bringing you random stormtrooper helmets that look like they’ve seen better days. “That was one time!” You huff, eyebrows narrowing at him as you stick a tongue out towards him. He chuckles as he watches you murmur thank you’s to the waddling balls of fur. “Yet it seems to happen every time we encounter them,” he mumbles amusingly causing you to shush him.

You had landed on Endor, finding refuge in the lush forests, surprisingly cool on this sunny planet. It hadn’t meant to happen. Encountering pirates on the way to Batuu, the ship was damaged and thus you landed safely onto the green planet unscathed. It had meant to be a quick stop until you had alerted Din to the sighting of something “small, round and fluffy” lurking around the ramp.

Din had been quick to try to deter you, his hand on his blaster as you approached the small bundle of fur, raising a sharp spear your way until you offered it the same blue cookies Din often tried to persuade you not to buy Grogu every time you went to a market. Though much to his surprise, the small creature with large eyes, snatched the snack and gobbled it right up quite happily mumbling some unintelligible language Din couldn’t make sense of and nor could you for that matter, still taking its offering hand and letting it pull you into the forest with Din at your heels and a laughing Grogu in his satchel.

Din had protested the short journey to a cluster of high tree houses, spiralling up into the great trees. The little creature had beckoned you up a wooden set of stairs. Din had taken your wrist, looking up at you from the bottom of the steps and could you see his face, you knew he’d be pouting unhappily.

“Please, mesh’la. Come back to the ship. We don’t know these creatures.”

You had understood his concern of course but part of you yearned for a detour. An adventure. You had both been travelling to and from planets, often with Din disappearing for days on end to collect bounties for credits while you babied Grogu and took care of the ship in his absence. Part of you felt too cooped up in the ship, almost selfishly thanking the maker for causing it to go to disarray and landing you somewhere new.

The small creature babbled up to you as Din’s fingers travelled to yours, intertwining your fingers and gently tugging. You looked back to him, “it’s getting dark, Din. We should spent the night at least.”

He sighed as he watched you turn back and with great difficulty tried to communicate to this brown fluff ball if they could give you some place to rest. Din meanwhile looked down at your son, his big eyes blinking up at his buir with intrigue towards his parents new friend. Din shrugged at him in response as the small boys eyes found the back of your head again cooeing.

The bug-eyed creature had brought the both of you to an empty treehouse, one a lot smaller than the others surrounding the area above. It chattered away in a language neither of you understood but it seemed to quickly learn that it was better to show you with gestures than with words. You had thanked the critter by giving it the rest of the cookies from your bag and offered up a parcel of bantha meat to cook that Din had realised you must have snatched from the pantry on the way off the ship. He smiles underneath his helmet, you were always prepared to take care of everyone.

That’s what he loved most about you.

“What do you think, Din?” You had asked, breaking through his thoughts as he lifted his head to watch you take off your jacket. The small creature had taken the parcel quite happily, waddling excitedly with it out of the house.

“Just one night, cya’rika,” he gently asserted, watching you pout but nod understandably.

“Okay but you have to admit this is pretty neat,” you open your arms twirling on one spot, your eyes looking up towards the top of the house.

A staircase ran around the outside walls, circling to what appeared to be an open topped roof with a balcony. A small table sat in the centre of the room, carved intricately out of wood with what appeared to be a couple of woven moss pillows on either side. Some woven sleeping mats and fur blankets folded neatly in the corner. A fire lantern hung from the staircase and the glow of a fire from outside the hut cast light through the doorway.

Din had to hand it to the creatures, they were rather skilled considering how dopey they looked.

He turned his attention back to you, watching you now pull out two mats and lay them side by side before folding up blankets and placing them down as pillows, setting up your sleeping space. Grogu babbled up at Din who mindlessly lifted his son out of his satchel, watching him scurry off to you, a small hand taking hold of your sleeve as he watched you get everything prepared.

Din wandered off towards the table, removing his weaponry and gear. As he removed some of his armor; opting to keep his chest piece on (just in case), you stood contentedly brushing off your thighs as you overlooked your sleeping arrangements with the small child now gripping your trouser cuff, big brown eyes following your movements. “There,” you clasped your hands together, looking at your son with delight who cooed almost understandably at your cheeriness. “Are you hungry, ad’ika?” The boy cried out happily at the mention of food while Din tried to control his exceeding heart rate that fluttered whenever you spoke in his native language.

It wasn’t your first language.

You had picked up the odd phrase here and there, asking Din to teach you the proper pronunciation. He did so with ease, not really thinking you would adapt or desire to even use it. Safe to say, he was surprised the first time you used the word ad’ika to describe Grogu when singing him to sleep one night. Then his legs nearly gave out under him, the first time he heard your sweet voice call him riduur.

He hadn’t taught you that one.

So the question was; who did teach you?

“Bo told me it means partner,” you had admitted, nervously rocking on your heels at his stuttering reaction. “Did I say it wrong?” You blushed, your lips trembling and eyes watering, worried you may have offended him. Din stepped towards you before stopping himself. If he got any closer, he didn’t know what he’d do but he knew for sure, he wouldn’t want to stop once he started.

“No, cya’rika. Your pronunciation was perfect but-“

“But?” You had interjected, your eyes now on your feet. Din could only recognise the expression as though you were waiting for rejection and that was something Din was absolutely NOT going to do.

“Cya’rika?” You lifted your gaze to his visor, “Riduur means a lot more than partner. Bo told you that, right?”

You frowned in confusion and your body shook anxiously as you stumbled to explain, “Well, she corrected me because I called you my boyfriend and she said the proper word for us- I mean, for you and what you mean to me…that word would be riduur.”

Din fell silent.

Bo you fiend, he mentally tsked.

“It doesn’t mean boyfriend, mesh’la,” Din found himself saying, thinking it would probably be best to rip the bandage off and let you know now to help you realise that you would want to stop using it.

“Oh?” You narrowed your eyes in surprise and he could see the cogs working your brain about why your friend would say that to you.

“Um, it means- well, riduur is- it’s, you’re calling me your husband.”

Your eyes widened and Din had thought he knew how red your face could get but right now your cheeks were as bright as the lava fields of Mustafar.

“It means- I…I called you my husband?” You clarified, your heart pounding erratically.

Din walked to you then silently and your eyes followed his visor until he was stood so close, your head tilted back to meet his gaze. He ran his eyes over your features, noticing that you seemed almost afraid. Not of what he would do. He knew that but afraid that you had upset him.

“You don’t have to stop,” he murmured, a light breath leaving your lips.

“What?” You implored and Din could see the way your body reacted. His eyes on your thighs tensing and the way the knuckles in your hands stiffened, your tongue peeking out to wet your lips.

“You can call me your riduur,” he tilted his head, awaiting your reaction but your cheeks merely bloomed even more crimson than before.

“Ner riduur?”

Din smiled. Your voice interrupting the memory as he met your eyes, now kneeling before him with a small clay bowl of cooked meat and an array of greens.

“Are you hungry? Our friends have cooked the meat and we’re sharing it out. They seem quite pleased. This is for you,” You offered the bowl to him. Din tugged his glove off his hand, taking the bowl with his fingers grazing your warm ones.

“Thank you, cya’rika. I’m glad to hear you’re getting along well with them,” he watches as you beamed happily at his words.

“They seem docile,” you appraised, eyes on the doorway with a finger swiping your chin thoughtfully. “Although I believe them to be perhaps territorial when threatened. They would make for useful allies.”

Din grinned under his helmet.

This was just like you. You find the good in everyone.

“However,” you began and Din’s smile immediately slipped.

“However?” He urged as your brows narrowed.

You laughed, “I did have to sternly inform them that Grogu is our son and not food.” You stood, turning from him while Din scrambled with his words.

“Ner riduur, I don’t like the sound of this. We should leave-“

“Gotcha,” you turned swiftly on your way out the door, winking at him as he let out a heavy sigh. His heart momentarily starting back up again.

“That wasn’t funny,” he poked at the meat with the wooden spork.

You giggled, “I had to say something to get you to lighten up. Grogu is fine. In fact, he’s more than fine. They actually seem to be steering out of his way. He’d used the force earlier to get more meat for his plate. I had to scold him. Not the ewoks.”

“Ewoks?” Din’s shoulders lifted interestedly.

“Yes,” you nodded, “that’s what they are called. The creatures. The Ewok species. One of them had an old book with a description of this planet and the inhabitants.”

“Interesting,” Din looked to the doorway, listening to the small sounds of cheering and clashing of dishes.

He turns back and meets your smile, immediately growing self-conscious at the way you’re staring at him. You giggle when his visor darts down to the bowl and wander towards the doorway, hovering a moment with your hand against the small weaved shutter.

“Enjoy, ner riduur, I’ll make sure our son doesn’t eat too much,” you wink and Din hums lightly under his breath, feeling the overwhelming need to clear his throat when his face grows hotter at your intense eyes.

He hears you giggling again when you shut the door behind you, ensuring his privacy to remove his helmet as he eats.

He doesn’t feel alone as he does though.

Distantly, he can hear the babble of foreign voices and your laughter as well as Grogu’s whines for very likely something more to eat. Din takes his time, eating and surveying your conversation from afar. Something he takes great pleasure in.

A few minutes later, Din stands, his mouth dry from his meal, deciding to venture to find if these creatures have anything to wash their local veggies down with.

He abandons his bowl and the hut, following the light sounds of laughter and foreign voices. In front of one of the treehouses above, Din watches the gathering of Ewoks dancing while playing music. While intrigued by their customs, a flash of green appearing in his peripheral catches his attention and he swiftly turns his visor downward to find his son waddling towards him from out of a nearby hut a lot smaller than the others.

Din bends down, picking Grogu up when he reaches for him.

His son babbles to him in a mumble of incoherent words and mando’a.

“Where is your parent?” Din says. His visor flashes up towards the party above again but you don’t appear to be among them. If you were, Din was pretty sure you’d be prancing around happily like the rest of them.

Grogu babbles again, more increasingly and Din catches the words for “in there” translated from Mando’a. His head turning towards the hue of amber glow emitting from the small hut, shadows dancing from inside.

Din walks toward the door but stops almost instantly before his boots can cross the threshold.

He’s still when he sees you.

Your back to him, crouched down, he watches as you offer your hands to a darkened corner, murmuring soft reassuring words.

Din’s heart paces.

He’s not sure what you’re talking to but nevertheless it has him concerned when his hand lowers to the blaster at his thigh.

Though just as quick as he could hover his hand above it, your hands take the smaller furry ones pulling the shaky ewok from the confines of its comfort bubble. “It’s okay,” you murmur, “see? You are safe.” Din’s heart warms, his hand relaxing at his side. “We are no threat to you,” you whisper and Din goes to turn, a smile on his lips at your tenderness towards these creatures until he sees the way you wrap your arms around the small thing.

He freezes.

You lift it up into your arms, it’s little legs hanging loosely at your side as you clutch it tightly in your embrace, swaying side to side and rubbing your cheek affectionately against its head with a small giggle.

Din’s heart races so fast, he’s afraid the sound of his pulse is echoing through his helmet from his temples.

What in the maker-

The sound of Grogu blowing a loud raspberry fills the silence.

Din steps back suddenly just as your head snaps in his direction at the door. His feet already carrying him as quietly as possible back to your treehouse, patting a jealous Grogu and repeatedly shushing him as he protests in speedy babbles.

A few minutes later and after some pacing, Din ultimately resolved to putting his still babbling son to bed while thinking, if the little womp rat could coherently speak in more mando’a, he was most likely mocking him for running away at the sight of you.

Once Grogu was tucked in and secure, (there was no other balcony from the second floor, just an arched window), Din stomps back down the wooden steps, removing his chest piece and gloves. These small creatures may run in packs but if they were trouble, Din was more than sure he could handle them unarmed.

Once slumped against the tree bark, his ears honing for Grogu’s steady breaths and satisfied with the gentle sound, he lets his eyes fall closed a moment until the growing thud of boots flashes them open again.

You still at the door frame, taking in the relaxed fold of Din’s body in the corner of the room, your eyes frowning between the sleep space you had set up and his position.

When you notice the slight tilt of his head, you put your hands on your hips.

He’s watching you.

He’s awake.

“What?” You inquire, your eyes taking in the silent Mandalorian in front of you. His body stretched out lazily, arm folded against his chest with his back braced against the bark of the treehouse.

Din doesn’t respond.

He’s still fighting the need to shift his body, the discomfort setting in at how hot his face is getting under his helmet. The words burning at the tip of his tongue not quite ready to release. He sighs and you roll your eyes in response, your tired body carrying you up to the second floor to check on your sleeping child.

Leaving the grumpy metal man to his thoughts, Din tries to ignore his desires for you, attempting to drift off to rest but getting a constant flash of the image of you cuddling the Ewok tightly in your arms. Din groans mentally at the sight of your cheek pressed against the top of its furry head, a smile stretched across your face pleasantly. You smooth your fingers through its fur and sway gently from side to side.

Din had yet to hold you like that.

Or hold you in anyway at all.

He had only recently admitted to his feelings and doing so in a rather reserved manner. The closest he’d gotten to touching you was holding your hand. It hadn’t progressed any further since. He wanted to wait until you instigated any physical touch but when you hadn’t, Din just assumed it was unwanted on your part. So he feared the idea of trying to touch you even with your consent.

Did you really want him to? He’d never actually asked. Should he ask? Would you reject him?

He’s not fluffy and his beskar is far from soft but his body can be quite warm after spending most of the day under clothing and armor.

“Din?” Your voice called out in the night.

Oh kriff.

His thoughts had carried themselves to his bed.

The both of you now laying side by side.

A small space between your sleep mats preventing him from feeling your warmth.

“Yes cya’rika?”

Din had watched with stiff hands as you walked back into the hut earlier completely unaware of what he had witnessed. You’d probably think him completely stupid for making such a big deal out of the whole thing. I mean really? Din was older than you and yet he was being completely childish.

Was he really jealous about seeing you hold another creature in a way you had yet to touch him?

“Why are you so quiet?” You questioned.

“Are we not sleeping?” Din replied, matter-of-fact.

But his question left room for an answer and he gets it when he hears you roll over, propping an arm up and looking at his back.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since I came back to rest. What’s wrong?” He feels your eyes burning a hole through his helmet if it were even possible.

“Is it so unusual for me to be quiet, mesh’la? You always said I was deadly silent.” He chuckles, trying to make light while his insides flutter dangerously.

You hum, “This is true but I think there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Din shudders and he’s thankful you can’t see the movement through his padded suit.

“Everything is fine,” he speaks.

“Why do you lie?” You’re sitting up completely now, cross legged and he can picture your arms over your chest.

“Cya’rika,” he turns back around and sure enough there you are, eyebrows furrowed, arms folded facing him. “I do not lie.”

You exhale, “Din Djarin.”

When you’re using his full name, it’s never a good thing.

“Do you remember when you told me to always share our feelings with one another?”

He sighs. “Yes, I remem-“

“Less than a cycle ago, when Grogu was sick, you took him to Peli and went to the market for medicine. You woke up early and took him. When I woke up, I was beside myself with worry. When eventually you returned in the evening without him, what was my reaction?”

“You were very upset, mesh’la,” he sits up, wanting to provide you with his full attention, knowing you were concerned. It still bothered Din to this day that he overlooked how upset you had been.

“I was very upset, yes and when you told me where Grogu was, what did I say?”

“You told me I made you feel insufficient as a parent because I didn’t tell you our son was sick and made you feel that you couldn’t care for him so left him with a friend who would know what to do.”

“That’s right. I was very angry. I retrieved my son, came back and locked ourselves in our bunk without you until he pulled around from his fever. And what did you say when I finally let you see him?”

“To tell me when you’re upset. So that I can apologise and understand what I had done wrong because I don’t always realise it. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared my life with another human.”

“And what did I tell you?”

“To do the same.”

“So that leads us back to the present, my love,” Din’s visor lifts, his heart pounding at the sweet term on your lips. “Tell me what is wrong?”

Din’s body trembles but he swallows a lump in his throat, avoiding your gaze, he lets his thoughts release from his tongue, “Earlier I saw you with one of the creatures.”

You frown but nod, “the ewoks?”

Din nods, “Yes. I saw you holding it rather tightly.”

You seem puzzled until your eyes widen, realising what he’s saying.

“You seemed rather happy when you were holding it. I just thought, well I was curious if that was something you would like to do again?”

It’s silent. It’s so silent Din can hear the rustling of the trees through the forest.

“You mean if I would like to hold the ewok again?” Your voice comes out uneasily, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I meant, if you would like to hold me?”

Din’s jaw tightens, his eyes closing. He’s so sure you’ll reject him. Why did he even say it? He should’ve just told you something else like how he was worried about the way you joked earlier about the ewoks wanting to eat Grogu, he should’ve just-

“Would you like me to hold you?”

Din’s helmet lifts immediately. His visor on yours and he swears while his head was dropped in denial, you’ve inched closer to him.

“Speak the truth.”

Din’s heart races at your words, his eyes running over your body, you’re practically crawling across to him and his shoulders lift and drop quickly with each uneasy breath he takes.

“Yes,” it’s urgent.

It’s pleading.

But before he can say anything else, your body is curled up into him, your legs trapping his broad ones, your arms slipping under his and flattening deliciously over his aching back muscles. Your head nuzzles up on his chest and Din looks down at your bodies, realising just how perfectly you fit together.

And then you squeeze.

Ever so gently but with enough pressure to send a wave of euphoria drowning out every unsure thought in Din’s mind.

“Is this okay?” You speak softly and Din bends to it, your voice and body draped over him like the softest blanket. His arms loosen, his hands finding refuge over your shoulders, the other weaving his fingers through your hair. You’re so soft. So warm. His fingers tugging gently through your strands, sending aches through your body. Maker, how you’ve longed for him.

“Yes. Is it okay for you?” He needs to know. He needs to know if you wanted this just as much as he does.

“It’s perfect,” and then you lift your head, your mouth inches from the underside of his visor where he swears you must be able to feel his breath escaping there and you do. You have to fight the urge to lift the helmet only so far as to press a soft kiss against those lips you have yet to feel, “You’re perfect, ner riduur.”

You shuffle your head back against his chest, “I’ve always wanted to do this.” You release a satisfied sigh, “I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

Din mentally groans, his arms tightening around you.

“I..I thought you’d reject me, ner kar’ta. That’s why I never asked. I’m sorry,” his voice drips with regret. Every night could’ve felt like this.

You giggle and Din feels his whole body relax at the sound.

“Such fools aren’t we? We got there in the end. So I guess I was wondering if we can do this every night?”

Din chuckles, a finger twirling around a strand of your hair, the other resting at your hip, “I was hoping we could. If that’s okay with you?” He takes the opportunity to tug you closer. His hands working over your back now while you shiver happily at the touch.

“Absolutely,” your lips tip into an amused grin, “especially since you got jealous. I need to make sure your needs are sated it seems.” You let your forehead tip against his helmet in a kiss momentarily and Din wished more than anything right now that he wasn’t wearing it at all.

Din doesn’t even argue with your accusation. He was jealous and he knew you’d find every way going forth to gauge that reaction from him again.

“Goodnight, Din,” you giggle, reading his mind.

“Sweet dreams, ner riduur,” he gently nudges his helmet against your head in return, feeling you relax, your eyes closing and gradually falling asleep in his arms.

Din smiles, watching you breathe slow, the puff of your chest felt against his own.

Maybe he should let you drag him on adventures more often if this is how they end.

[padmesweetheart]

Ring Camera Chronicles: Volume III & IV

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Young Wife!Reader

Genre: Humor, Domestic Comedy, Neighborhood Shenanigans, Soft Fluff

Word Count: ~3,100

3-4/5 of the Hayden Vs Ring Camera

Volume III: “The Presentation”

You hadn’t planned to share the videos with the neighborhood.

Not at first.

But then the HOA president, Beverly—who wore sun hats big enough to orbit the earth—called an “urgent community safety meeting” to address porch hazards, citing an “increased number of incidents.”

Hayden had gone pale when you read the email aloud.

“Oh no,” he muttered, clutching a heating pad to his lower back. “She knows.”

“She knows,” you confirmed solemnly.

The community center was filled with the usual suspects: Beverly with her clipboard, Greg from three doors down who always mowed his lawn at 6 a.m. sharp, the couple with matching fleece vests, and sweet old Mrs. Kline who always brought weird mints no one liked.

Hayden sat stiffly beside you, sunglasses indoors, hoodie up, as if trying to avoid being recognized like some kind of fallen celebrity.

Beverly cleared her throat dramatically at the front of the room.

“Neighbors,” she said, “we’ve had two… high-impact incidents caught on Ring footage this month. Both involving the same porch. Same individual.”

You elbowed Hayden lightly. “That’s you.”

“I gathered that, thanks.”

Then—without warning—Beverly clicked her remote, and the projector lit up with the title slide:

“Porch Safety Awareness: A Real-Life Cautionary Tale.”

Hayden physically sank into his chair.

And then… the videos played.

First, The Fall: him slipping on the porch with all the grace of a cartoon character. A few gasps. One stifled laugh. Someone whispered, “Is that the guy from Star Wars?”

Then—The Ramp Launch: broomstick and all like Harry Potter.

The room lost it.

Greg choked on a cough drop. Mrs. Kline shouted, “OH MY STARS!” and Beverly… Beverly actually smiled for the first time in 20 years.

When the video ended, she turned to face the crowd.

“Let this be a lesson. Morning dew is no joke. And neither is reckless broom use.”

Hayden muttered into your ear, “I feel like I just got roasted at a PTA meeting by a coven.”

You patted his thigh. “Next time, wear elbow pads.”

———————-

Volume IV: “You Think You’re Slick”

The humiliation of the HOA screening lit a fire under Hayden.

He became obsessed with outsmarting the Ring camera. Like a man on a mission. Like someone in a spy movie. Like he was being hunted.

Which… to be fair, he kind of was. By you. And your beautiful collection of footage.

First, he tried sneaking out the back door.

Didn’t work. The back door had a camera too

Then he tried crawling. Crawling, Hayden. Like a six-foot ghost in a hoodie, army-crawling across the porch to avoid detection. You caught the whole thing—complete with his butt sticking up halfway through.

Then tried he taped a cardboard square over the Ring lens.

And replaced the porch mat with a handwritten note:

“Nothing to see here. Porch is boring now. Love, Not Hayden.”

You nearly cried laughing.

So you upped the stakes.

One day, while he was off feeding Harold (aka his arch-nemesis), you swapped out the Ring chime sound on your phone for a custom audio alert.

That afternoon, as you watched him tiptoe up the porch in a completely unnecessary trench coat and sunglasses combo, the camera sent a notification:

Motion Detected: Front Porch.

Your phone went:

“DUN DUNNN. THE DIGNITY DESTROYER STRIKES AGAIN.”

He froze. Looked straight into the lens like it personally betrayed him.

Then you got a text:

Hayden:

You’re diabolical.

I want a divorce.

(But only after you kiss me goodnight.)

That night, you found him curled up on the couch, hoodie on, arms crossed, pouting like a kid who lost at Mario Kart.

“You mad at me?” you asked, flopping down beside him.

He glared. “You gave the camera a nickname.”

You smirked. “Dignity Destroyer fits.”

He didn’t respond—just leaned over dramatically and put his head in your lap like he was in mourning.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “You know I only mess with you because I love you, right?”

He huffed. “You love ruining my career as a porch ninja.”

“I do.” You kissed his forehead. “But I love you more.”

Hayden closed his eyes, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “…You gonna post that army crawl video?”

You paused. “Depends. What’s it worth to you?”

He looked up at you with mock betrayal. “You are the villain in our marriage.”

“You broke a broom trying to fly off the stairs, Hayden.”

He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. “I was trying to live.”

You laughed so hard you snorted.

@skyguytoast @dessxoxsworld @endairachristensen26 @bxbyysstuff

[nocternalrandomness]

Alert Birds from the ANG 197th FS sit ready on the ramp at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport - 1956

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Omg! I saw you take requests! I love your work especially bad batch! I was thinking a Hunter x Fem!Reader where the reader is new to the ship, like medic or maybe even a soldier? But she uses like perfumes and obviously a different soap and he’s obsessed with trying to figure out what she smells like and with how nice it smells? You’re amazing! :))

Absolutely - sometimes I run out of ideas so love getting request! I hope you like it x

⸻

Title: “What Is That Smell?”

Hunter x Fem!Reader

⸻

The Marauder had always smelled like metal, boot polish, and testosterone. Maybe a little like burnt caf on bad days. It wasn’t bad—it was just what Hunter was used to. Predictable. Familiar.

Until you showed up.

Fresh off an assignment with a battalion on Christophis, you were the newest addition to Clone Force 99—medic, technically, but you could hold your own in a fight too. The regs had spoken highly of your skills. That’s all Hunter needed to approve the transfer.

What he hadn’t anticipated was you.

Not your skills, not your sharp tongue or how fast you could stitch a man back together mid-firefight.

No, what Hunter hadn’t anticipated—what was currently driving him up the kriffing wall—was how good you smelled.

⸻

It started on the first day.

You’d walked up the ramp in your gear, throwing a satchel over your shoulder, hair pulled back, confidence in your step. The moment you passed him, it hit Hunter like a punch to the senses.

Sweet. Warm. Not too strong. Not floral, not fruity. Something clean. Something… familiar but elusive. He couldn’t place it.

His head had snapped toward you like a damn hound on instinct.

You hadn’t noticed—too busy joking with Tech about the medbay setup.

Hunter had clenched his jaw and focused. Or tried to. You walked past him again and—there it was. A whisper of something rich and soft. Stars, what was that?

⸻

The next few days were worse.

Every time you were near, his senses lit up like a battle alert. The scent of your soap after a shower. The subtle perfume that lingered on your neck and collarbone when you leaned over the holotable. Even the way your gear smelled—fresh, clean, nothing like the usual musty armor worn too long.

Hunter could track someone through a jungle with a five-day head start, but your scent was all he could think about, and you were right there—constantly in his space, brushing shoulders, handing him bandages, laughing at something Wrecker said.

He was losing it.

⸻

He caught you in the galley one night, the ship quiet, everyone else asleep.

You were perched on the counter in sleepwear and a hoodie, cradling a cup of caf like it held the secrets of the galaxy. The scent hit him again—stronger this time. No armor, no barrier. Just you, soft and warm and godsdamn intoxicating.

“You okay?” you asked, eyes flicking up to meet his.

Hunter blinked. “Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

You tilted your head. “Too much stimcaf or just the usual war trauma?”

He smirked. “Bit of both.”

You chuckled, then held out the cup. “Want some?”

He stepped forward—and nearly flinched when the scent hit him again. His jaw tightened.

“You good?” you asked, raising a brow.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What do you wear?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Hunter rubbed the back of his neck, ears flushing. “I mean, you smell… different. Not in a bad way! Just… I can’t place it.”

You stared at him for a beat—then burst into laughter. “Is that what’s been bothering you?”

He scowled, only mildly embarrassed. “It’s been driving me nuts. I can’t figure it out.”

You hopped off the counter, still laughing, and came to stand close. Too close. He tensed when you leaned in just a little, tilting your head.

“It’s amber and sandalwood. Little bit of vanilla. And my soap’s just some fancy one I stole from an officer’s shower kit. Want me to make you a batch?”

Hunter’s brain short-circuited.

The scent was right there—intimate, surrounding him, and your voice was low, teasing.

“I—uh…” he stammered, then pulled back just slightly. “No. No, I think I’ll go insane if everything smells like you.”

You smiled slowly, eyes dark with amusement. “So… it’s a problem?”

He gave you a flat look. “Yes.”

You leaned in again, grinning. “Guess you’ll just have to get used to it, Sarge.”

Hunter’s voice was gravel. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

⸻

[marlynnofmany]

Unlikely Tech Problems

I reported to the cargo bay for our next delivery, and found concerned faces. Captain Sunlight waited by the door, scaly browridges angled into a dignified frown, while Mimi gestured wildly with his tentacles. I’d expected Mur to come with us instead. Something was up.

Before I could ask, the captain waved me over. “The other ship’s communications appear to be down,” she said. “Additional problems are possible as well. Keep your nostrils open for trouble.”

“Right,” I said, choosing not to comment on the Heatseeker phrasing. “Do we know if they’re okay?”

“They should be,” she replied with one clawed finger pointed at the closed bay door, which blocked the view of a busy spaceport. “The crew member who exited their ship to wave us over didn’t look distressed. And Wio isn’t picking up any alert signals or other causes for alarm.”

Mimi rumbled, “But we’re cautiously alarmed anyway.” He made quite a contrast to the captain, with his voice so much rougher and his attitude grumpier than usual today. Plus all the tentacles. I wondered what he expected the problem to be. Or maybe he just wasn’t looking forward to being mechanic-for-hire as a favor for regular clients. Though I’m sure the captain would have given him a bonus for that.

“We are simply cautious,” said Captain Sunlight. “We’ll head out as soon as—”

Something hissed behind me.

“I hearrrr of thrrrreatening circumsssstanssses?” asked Trrili, sounding pleased.

I turned to see our largest and scariest crewmate doing her favorite thing: looming. Well, second favorite thing, after jumping out and startling people. It was probably good that she enjoyed being terrifying, because with an appearance that was a mix of praying mantis, black widow spider, and unholy nightmares, she was really good at it.

Captain Sunlight was unfazed. “Potentially threatening,” she corrected. “If you will kindly observe in case of problems, I would appreciate it.”

Trrili crouched lower and flexed her pincher arms. “Yesss.”

(Unnecessary hissing is her third favorite thing to do.)

“Right. They’ll be waiting.” The captain stepped forward and opened the bay door — with the airlock engaged. She really wasn’t taking any chances. I wondered if Wio was watching from the cockpit, ready to call the local authorities if need be.

Yeah, of course she was.

The first three of us cycled through the airlock, then waited on the tarmac while Trrili followed. The spaceport was a big one, with ships in all the nearby parking spots and people hustling to and fro. (They're more properly called berths or bays or something, but whatever; they're parking spots. Everybody there could land vertically, and the areas were sorted by ship size.)  I didn’t know which ship held the package we were meant to be picking up. Hopefully it was close.

By the time Trrili stepped out, the ship directly across from us had opened its own bay door, this one without any sort of airlock precautions. A snow-white Heatseeker trotted out and waved us forward. I was glad that the local weather was slightly overcast, since between those white scales and Captain Sunlight’s yellow, I would have been doing a lot of squinting on a bright day.

“Piercing Sunlight!” exclaimed the client. “Good to smell you.”

“Hello, Toothbone,” said the captain. “Always a pleasure. Is your comm system down?”

Toothbone swished her tail. “A precautionary measure. We had a bit of machinery repaired, and it came back with suspicious programming. We’re making sure it’s not malicious before connecting with any other ships, just to be sure.”

Captain Sunlight nodded while Trrili made a quiet hiss of disappointment. “Very sensible,” the captain said. “I trust this won’t affect the package you want us to deliver?”

“No, not at all. It’s a textile piece that one of our crew made on commission for someone on their home planet, no technology involved. Right this way.”

She led us up the ramp into their cargo bay, which had a lower ceiling than ours. Trrili and I both had to duck a little. The Heatseekers and Mimi didn’t notice.

Toothbone pointed out an awkwardly-shaped box that probably held an art frame as well as the promised cloth, and Captain Sunlight tactfully brought out the payment tablet.

Angry voices echoed down the hallway. Trrili perked up and edged forward; I stepped aside to let her while Mimi squashed down beside the package. Captain Sunlight glanced up but didn’t say anything. Toothbone just looked tired.

Since neither of them told her not to, Trrili opened the door and stuck her head out. Somebody shrieked. The sounds of the argument stopped.

“Isssss therrre a prrroblem?” Trrili purred.

“No — well yes, but not — who are you?” someone asked while other voices muttered in the background.

“Courrrierrr,” Trrili said.

“Thank you for your concern,” said an officious voice. “If you don’t mind—”

“Hey, is that a human?” asked another voice, and I saw brown eyes peeking around Trrili. “They’ll back me up! Hang on a sec. ‘Scuse me.”

Trrili stepped back as a slender human with dark skin and a wild-colored shirt skipped past. He hurried over to me. I braced for whatever conversation was about to happen.

“Hi,” he said earnestly. “Please tell me you’ve heard of the thing where people program old Earth games into unlikely bits of tech.”

“Sure!” I said. “My cousin put Doom in a hoverbike’s display screen once.”

“Yes!” He pointed at me and pumped a fist in the air, then turned back to the scaly faces in the hall. “You see?”

I connected the dots. “Did your repaired piece of tech come back with a game on it?”

He whirled, wild-eyed. “Yes! One of the repair guys is a buddy of mine, and he must have done it as a joke. I’ve been trying to explain it, but nobody believes me!”

“What tech is it?” I asked.

“Part of the medbay,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Somebody sprained their tail, and the medic went to scan it for breaks, then they ended up with a screen full of demons and gunfire.”

I tried not to laugh. “Is it actually Doom in your medbay??”

He dragged his hands over his face. “It’s Doom in the medbay.”

“That’s amazing!”

By this point the other Heatseekers had made their way in to join the conversation, and to be formally introduced. Things got a bit chaotic. But I confirmed for the alien crew that yes, this was a thing humans did sometimes, and no, it was not a threat to the ship. Alarming yes, but not any form of viral attack.

Trrili was a bit disappointed, but everyone else was relieved. Captain Sunlight managed to steer the conversation back to courier business.

The other human shook his head next to me. “I can’t believe my friend did that. Well no, I can believe it; this is definitely his sort of thing. But jeez.”

“You might consider sending him another old Earth tradition in return,” I suggested with a grin. “Possibly a max-volume rickroll?”

He grinned back. “I might. I might indeed.”

~~~

Inspired by this thread. Thanks for the idea, @sleepyowlet!

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[lustagel]

𖨂 older boyfriend! cooper with his younger girlfriend . . . reader is early twenties. eighteen plus.

older boyfriend! cooper who hates how woman around his age look at you when he introduces you to them. especially ones that hit on him. their eyes looking over the two of you with a judgmental look.

older boyfriend! cooper who constantly hears his mother praise him for feeling so deeply for you.

older boyfriend! cooper who takes a lot of pictures of you and riley together. even going as far as getting his favorite one developed so he can have one in his wallet.

older boyfriend! cooper who, if a little grumpy that day, riley will say “grump alert” with a playful roll of her eyes, secretly hoping you’ll get him in a better mood like you always do.

older boyfriend! cooper who doesn’t always communicate verbally compliments or praises to you. his soft touch’s and lingering kisses giving you enough acknowledgment.

older boyfriend! cooper who call you and riley his girl’s a lot.

older boyfriend! cooper who gets confused sometimes with the latest technology and needs some help by you.

older boyfriend! cooper who gives the most thoughtful birthday gifts. them always being exactly what you and riley want!

older boyfriend! cooper who’s cock is so unbelievably fat that it hurts a bit every time he slides into you. he knows it, but doesn’t care a lot of the time, just slamming into you.

older boyfriend! cooper who has dreamt about your round lips around his cock the same day he met you.

older boyfriend! cooper who no matter how big and hard he acts just can’t seem to stop whining when he’s fucking your face. catching himself sometimes, trying to cover them up with harsh groans.

older boyfriend! cooper who does nonverbal communication when he’s deep inside of you too. rubbing your sides softly as he ramps his cock into you.

older boyfriend! cooper who makes up for his absence by fucking you into the mattress until you forget all about it.

older boyfriend! copper who can easy say he’s fuck you on his table more times than he can count.

older boyfriend! cooper who gets lost when he’s deep inside of you. forgetting how much of a “monster” he is.

older boyfriend! cooper who likes to hear you praise him on how good he’s fucking you. especially if he can tell you’re barely holding yourself together. words slurred together, whining, sloppy pussy crying right along with you.

older boyfriend! cooper who’ll tell you he’s the butcher while he’s balls deep inside of you. you’ve taken his cock so well he believes you can handle his secret just as well.

[netflixbingger]

Beneath Rebel Skies - Chapter 11

Characters:Cassian x Reader Summary: You and Cassian Andor were childhood friends on Ferrix—until your parents suddenly tore you away without warning. Years later, you reunite during a mission for the Rebellion. Old memories clash with new tension as you’re forced to work together, navigating the lines between friendship, loyalty, and something more. Word Count: 3,827 words Warnings: Violence, Loss, Mild Language, Heavy Sexual Implications Previous Chapter Masterlist

You hadn’t realized how much quieter the base felt without him.

Cassian had only been gone a few days—routine recon, nothing high-risk—but it still left a noticeable gap. Like some thread in your day-to-day had gone slack.

You kept yourself busy. Maintenance duty. Late meals with Kiira. Updating supply logs that no one but you cared about. Two weeks out of medbay and you were nearly healed, the bruising fading from angry purples to dull yellows. Still tender, but manageable. You didn’t limp anymore. You didn’t wince when you stretched too far.

You were okay.

Mostly.

But you’d started doing this thing—checking the mission board a little too often, keeping your comm volume just a little louder than necessary. Not because you were worried, exactly. Just… aware. Hyperaware.

Cassian meant something now. He always had, but this was different. He was your person in a way you hadn’t fully let yourself feel before. And now that you’d had him—his hands, his mouth, his quiet stubborn care—you didn’t want to go back to the before.

So when the incoming alert pinged across your datapad at 23:48—Inbound arrival. C. Andor. ETA: 00:12—Your heart kicked once, hard.

The hangar was fairly quiet at midnight.

Only the overheads buzzed, casting pale gold light across the empty bays. A couple techs dozed in swivel chairs, a transport pilot sipped caf near the exit, but otherwise it was just you. Standing awkwardly with your arms crossed, shifting from foot to foot, pretending you weren’t excited.

The ship touched down with a soft whirr of repulsors, landing gear hissing as it met the ground.

You swallowed.

The ramp lowered slowly—and then there he was.

Cassian.

Dust on his boots, pack slung over one shoulder, curls mussed, brows slightly furrowed like he was still halfway in the field. His eyes scanned the bay and caught on you almost instantly.

He stilled.

You didn’t run to him. That wasn’t your style. But your face broke into a grin you didn’t even try to fight.

“Hey,” you called softly.

Cassian’s whole expression softened—just slightly, just enough for you to catch it. He made his way down the ramp without a word, boots echoing on the metal. And when he reached you, he didn’t say anything right away.

He just looked at you.

“You’re here,” he said, voice low.

You nodded, biting back a smile. “Got the alert. Figured I’d greet you.”

His gaze moved across your face, pausing at your still-faint bruise, at the faded scar by your ribs now visible beneath your tank. Then his eyes flicked back up. “You look better.”

“I am better.”

“You sure?”

“I’m cleared for active duty tomorrow,” you said. “Stop hovering.”

“I’m not hovering.”

You shook your head and nudged his shoulder lightly, warmth rising in your chest. “Back to yours? Or do you wanna grab some food?”

Cassian didn’t answer. Just looked at you again—this quiet, almost amazed look, like he couldn’t believe you were up all night waiting for him.

Then he reached out, brushed a bit of grease from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “I missed you.”

It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t dramatic.

But it hit you like a punch to the ribs.

You smiled again, almost afraid to admit it. Then you tilted your head toward the corridor. “Come on, Captain. I’ll walk you home.”

And you did. Side by side. No words. Just a quiet, steady closeness. Like maybe, slowly, the two of you were starting to figure out what it meant to have each other.

The walk back to his quarters was quiet.

Not awkward. Just… settled. Like the two of you had done this a hundred times before, even though it was still new enough to feel special.

You didn’t hold hands, but your arms brushed now and then, and neither of you pulled away. It was late enough that the corridors were mostly empty, the base winding down around you. Somewhere down the hall, a light flickered. You heard distant laughter from a barrack two levels up.

But here—between the two of you—it was just the sound of footsteps, soft and steady.

When you reached his door, Cassian paused, hand hovering over the panel. He glanced at you. “You coming in?”

You gave a small shrug. “If you’re offering.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t say anything else. Just keyed in the code.

His room was the same as always—dim, quiet, stripped-down in that very-Cassian way. But it felt warmer with him in it. More lived in. A half-folded shirt was draped across the back of a chair. A caf mug sat on the shelf by his bed. One of your hair ties rested beside it.

You stepped in and pulled off your jacket, draping it over the chair. Cassian set his pack on the floor and toed off his boots with a quiet grunt.

Then he moved to you.

Not rushed. Not hesitant.

He just stepped close and wrapped his arms around your waist, tucking his face into the crook of your neck like he’d been needing to all week.

You let yourself melt into him, arms winding around his back.

He held you like that for a while—solid, warm, quiet. Like grounding himself to you after being gone. You could feel his breath at your neck, the way his hands splayed over your back like he wasn’t ready to let go.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes searched your face, still unreadable, but softer now. Cassian leaned in and kissed you—slow, steady, a little more certain than the last time. It wasn’t rushed. Just something he needed. And you gave in to it without hesitation, fingers sliding up the back of his neck, feeling the beginnings of stubble.

His voice was low against your mouth. “You missed me.”

You made a noncommittal noise.

He pulled back slightly, smirking. “You missed me.”

You rolled your eyes. “You were gone for two days.”

“And you still missed me.”

He kissed you again. You didn’t try to stop smiling this time.

“Shut up,” you whispered, tugging him toward the bed.

He followed easily, and the next hour was a blur of tangled limbs, half-laughed curses, and slow, lingering touches. You ended up on top of the blankets, breathless and half-undressed, your legs tangled with his as you laid side by side. His hand rested low on your waist, thumb brushing lazy circles on your skin.

The room had gone quiet again, but it felt different now—settled in a new way. Like this was starting to become a rhythm.

“Do you ever think about Ferrix?” you asked suddenly, voice quiet in the dark.

Cassian let out a small breath. “All the time”, he gave a faint shrug, tracing your back. “You were different back then.”

“So were you.”

“I mean it. You were… softer.”

You raised a brow. “Wow. Thanks.”

He shook his head quickly, catching your sarcasm. “Not weak. Just… younger. You were still figuring everything out.”

You fell quiet for a beat. “I felt like I had to. I was always trying to catch up to you and Bix. Like I was tagging along.”

Cassian gave a soft laugh, one you could feel rumble under your cheek. “You say that like it bothered us.”

“You didn’t seem to notice.”

“I noticed everything,” he said.

Your heart kicked.

“You were fearless in weird ways,” he continued, voice more thoughtful now. “You’d try things even when you were scared. Speak up even if your voice shook. You had no idea how brave that made you look.”

You lifted your head slightly, looking at him.

“I think I liked you even back then,” he said, eyes on the ceiling. “I didn’t know what to do with it. I just figured you’d never really… see me that way.”

You blinked, surprised. “Are you serious?”

Cassian glanced at you. “Why do you think I kept giving you shit all the time?”

“I thought you just liked being annoying.”

“That too,” he muttered. Then, softer: “But mostly it was because when you smiled at me, I forgot how to talk.”

You were quiet, but not because you didn’t have anything to say. You just hadn’t expected that.

You leaned forward, closing the space between you, kissing him before he could say anything else.

And this time, he didn’t hold back. He pulled you flush against him, hand tangling in your shirt, mouth parting yours with something closer to urgency than tenderness. You let him—wanted him—until you were breathless and flushed, your body pressed tight to his.

Eventually, you broke the kiss, nose brushing his. “You talk a lot for someone who’s supposedly bad with words.” He let out a low chuckle that filled your stomach with butterflies.

The hum of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you crouched beside a tangled mess of wiring in the back of Maintenance Bay 2. Your hands were already smudged with grease, and you’d been trying to make the same old junction box stop sparking for the past ten minutes.

“You’re glowing,” Kiira announced, strolling in like she hadn’t just woken up fifteen minutes ago. “Either he railed you stupid or you found a working caf machine.”

You didn’t even look up. “Both.”

“Ugh. Gross. I didn’t need confirmation.”

You smirked. “You asked.”

“I didn’t actually ask. I just strongly implied.”

Kiira plopped down on the crate beside you, sipping from her own caf like it was a damn mimosa. “So. You and Captain Smolder now share quarters or what?”

“No,” you said, too quickly. “I still have a room.”

“That you haven’t used in, like, four days.”

You gave her a look. “It’s not like that.”

Kiira raised a brow. “You two are attached at the hip. He left for two days and you were unbearable.”

You reached for the wire splicer. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You were miserable.Kept on staring at the clock waiting for him to arrive”

You tried to hide your grin. “Shut up.”

She grinned back. “I’m just saying—it’s nice seeing you like this.”

“Greasy and irritable?”

“No,” she said. “Happy. It suits you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can we not do the whole heart-to-heart thing before breakfast?”

Kiira held up her hands. “Fine. But don’t think I didn’t see that hickey under your collar.”

Your head snapped toward her. “There’s not—”

“There is. You’re sloppy, babe.”

You groaned and shoved her with your foot. She laughed.

Kiira stood and stretched. “Alright. I’m off to pretend I know how to fix a power converter. I’ll see you later tonight at the bar”

You smirked and lobbed a bolt at her. “Try not to be late this time.”

Kiira caught it one-handed, already sauntering toward the exit. “Try not to drink like a rookie this time.”

The bar was exactly what you remembered—dim lights, sticky floors, and a jukebox that only played two songs on loop. It smelled like spilled liquor and old gear grease. But somehow, it always felt like the safest place on base. Like the war didn’t follow you past the threshold.

 “To our girl,” Kiira said loudly, raising a dented tin cup above her head. “Back on her feet. Cleared for duty. And somehow still hot despite nearly bleeding out on a crate of ration packs.”

You groaned into your drink. “Can you not say the word ‘bled’ while I’m eating?”

Cassian sat beside you, one arm along the back of the booth. His drink sat mostly untouched, his posture relaxed.

Kiira grinned across the table, slinging an arm over your shoulders despite the fact that she was already a drink ahead of you. “I’m serious. I’ve seen people take less damage and come back looking like boiled meat.”

“Wow,” you said flatly.

“She’s complimenting you,” Cassian murmured near your ear.

“She’s terrible at it.”

“I’m incredible at it,” Kiira protested. “You just don’t know how to accept love.”

You rolled your eyes and drained your glass. Whatever mix they’d poured tonight was stronger than usual, warm in your chest and legs, softening all the edges. You tipped your head back against the booth and caught Cassian watching you—subtle, but unmistakable.

You raised an eyebrow. “You judging me?”

“Just observing.”

“Uh-huh.”

He didn’t say anything. Just reached for his drink and took a slow sip, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smile.

Kiira caught it instantly. “Oh, don’t think I didn’t see that.”

Cassian looked at her, deadpan. “See what?”

“That look. You’re, like, three seconds away from dragging her out of here by her waistband for a quick fuck.”

You choked on your drink. “Kiira.”

She shrugged, entirely unrepentant. “I’m just saying—it’s quite obvious.”

Cassian stayed silent, but the flick of his thumb along your arm under the table was answer enough.

You tried not to grin. Failed.

Before you could respond, a loud voice cut through the bar.

“Well, shit. If it isn’t Captain Andor.”

Cassian turned just as Melshi strode in from the doorway, peeling off his jacket and slapping it across the back of a nearby chair.

“I thought I recognized that scowl,” Melshi said, grinning. “Didn’t think I’d find you cozying up in a booth like some domesticated war hero.”

Cassian rolled his eyes but stood to greet him. They clasped hands, pulled each other into a brief, brotherly hug that said more than words could. You rose, brushing your hands on your pants.

“You must be Melshi,” you said, offering your hand.

Melshi blinked, then gave Cassian a look. “This her?”

Cassian didn’t say anything, just shifted slightly to your side—close enough tto answer his question without any words.

Melshi’s eyes moved to you. He didn’t say anything at first—just looked. And then:

“Oh. So this is her.”

You blinked. “Her?”

He slid into the seat next to Kiira. “The one he mentioned when we were stuck halfway to nowhere the other month. Ferrix girl. Couldn’t tell if he wanted to kiss you or throw something.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And which do you think it was?”

Melshi chuckled. “Probably both.”

Cassian didn’t comment—just picked up his glass and took a slow sip, unbothered.

Kiira leaned in, looking delighted. “So you’re a second witness to his secret soft side?”

Melshi snorted. “Hardly. This guy didn’t tell me anything on purpose. Just muttered your name once when he was rewiring the nav console and shocked himself.”

Kiira cackled into her drink.

Cassian muttered, “You’re not staying long, are you?”

Melshi ignored him, gesturing to the drinks. “What are we celebrating?”

“She got cleared for active duty,” Kiira said, raising her glass toward you. “First mission back starts next cycle.”

Melshi’s brows lifted. “No shit? You’re the one who took a blaster to the ribs, right?”

You gave a dry smile. “News travels fast.”

“Gossip does,” Melshi said. “But still—hell of a thing. You look good for someone who nearly bled out.”

“Thanks,” you said.

Cassian’s mouth twitched. He didn’t say much, but his thumb brushed the side of your leg again beneath the table—gentle, reassuring. Like he needed the reminder that you were still here, still in one piece.

You leaned slightly into his side, letting that quiet contact settle you. The talk moved on, the drinks kept flowing, and you let yourself be in it—just for now.

An hour later, the booth was scattered with half-finished drinks, a dented deck of cards, and the remains of something that had once been food. Melshi had somehow talked all of you into a game none of you fully remembered the rules to, which, frankly, only made it more fun.

Kiira was talking shit. Melshi was talking louder. Cassian watched it all with that unreadable expression of his—calm, amused, sipping his drink like he didn’t want to miss a second.

You were drunk. Not sloppy, not out of control. Just warm and loose, that kind of buzz that made the lights a little softer and the laughter easier.

You leaned your weight into Cassian’s side, legs folded beneath you. His arm rested behind you on the booth, fingertips brushing the curve of your shoulder now and then like he didn’t notice—or like he absolutely did.

“Okay,” Kiira said, throwing a card. “That move was illegal. You should be arrested.”

“You’re making the rules up as you go,” Melshi said, deadpan. “Pretty sure you just made three of the same play in a row.”

“Bold of you to assume I know how to count right now.”

You laughed into your drink and nearly spilled it. Cassian reached over instinctively, steadying the cup with one hand while the other ghosted over your thigh.

“You good?” he asked under his breath, low enough for only you.

You nodded, blinking up at him. “Just tipsy.”

He gave a quiet hum. “You’re flushed.”

You rolled your eyes and slouched lower into his side, letting the hum of the bar and the heat of him next to you settle into your bones.

Someone dropped a glass at the bar. A cheer went up. Melshi shouted something about cheating again.

Eventually, the game fell apart—Kiira started dealing the cards upside down, Melshi accused her of sabotage, and you were too far gone to follow who was actually winning.

“You two are a menace,” you mumbled, propping your chin on your hand.

Melshi leaned back, tossing his cards onto the table. “Alright, I’m calling it. If we keep playing, someone’s gonna cry.”

“And that someone is gonna be you,” Kiira said, grabbing her jacket off the back of the booth.

Melshi stood, stretching with a dramatic groan. “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

You watched Kiira and Melshi disappear out the door, her hand wrapped around his forearm like she’d done it a thousand times before. He was still saying something, talking fast with that crooked grin like he was trying to win her over with pure charm. She was smirking—amused, maybe impressed. Hard to tell with Kiira.

Cassian leaned on the edge of the table beside you, arms crossed. “They’re really leaving together?”

You arched a brow. “Looks like it.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Didn’t see that coming.”

You snorted. “I did. She’s been teasing him all night—and he’s barely blinked.”

Cassian’s gaze lingered on the door a second longer before glancing at you. “Think that’ll go anywhere?”

You shrugged, stretching your arms overhead. “Depends if they kill each other or hook up first.”

He gave a wry smile, “She’d eat him alive.”

“That’s probably why he likes her.”

You laughed—soft and a little sleepy. The bar had thinned out, most of the tables empty now. Your head felt pleasantly warm, a little fuzzy around the edges. You weren’t drunk enough to forget, just tipsy enough to stop overthinking things. Cassian hadn’t moved far from you all night—his knee kept brushing yours under the table, his fingers catching yours once when you’d dropped a card. You hadn’t said anything. Neither had he. But the weight of it lingered.

You nudged him with your foot. “They actually kind of work.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “They do?”

You gave a small shrug. “He’s cocky, but not in a bad way. She’ll keep him on his toes.”

He tilted his head like he was considering it, then nodded. “Could be worse.”

You stood slowly, brushing your hands on your pants. “Well, now that our entertainment’s left…”

Cassian stood as well, watching you for a moment like he was assessing how unsteady your legs were.

“We should head back,” he said.

You didn’t protest. Just gave him a small grin.

The walk back was quiet, the kind of silence that came from familiarity. You leaned into him more than usual, your shoulder bumping his. Cassian didn’t tease you, didn’t ask if you were okay—just walked at your pace, steady and grounded like always.

When you reached his room, he keyed open the door and guided you inside with a hand on the small of your back.

The light was soft—dimmed automatically when he stepped in. You made it as far as the chair before toeing off your boots and sinking down with a huff.

“I’m not drunk,” you said.

Cassian arched a brow, crouching to help pull off the second boot. “No?”

“Just… a little spinny.”

He didn’t laugh, but he smiled—just slightly. “Come on.”

You stood, swaying only slightly, and let him lead you to the bed. You flopped down with a sigh, already pulling the blanket over your chest. He moved around the room in quiet efficiency—boots, jacket, belt—before finally slipping in beside you.

You rolled toward him immediately, burying your face in his shoulder.

Cassian rested his arm around you, his hand splayed against your back. He didn’t speak. Just held you until your breathing evened out.

You were asleep within minutes.

And for a long time, he just laid there—awake, watching the way your fingers curled against his shirt

The days slipped by in quiet pieces.

You were back on missions now—light ones at first. Supply escorts, outpost checks, the occasional recon flyover. Nothing high-risk, but enough to shake the rust off. To prove to yourself that you could still do this.

Cassian never said anything when you’d return from a mission, but he was always there—leaning against the wall by the hangar, arms crossed, gaze steady. Sometimes he’d ask how it went. Other times, he didn’t have to. He’d just walk with you. Quietly, closely. Like he was grounding you. Like he knew you needed the silence more than the debrief.

Nights belonged to him.

You hadn’t officially moved into his quarters, but it might as well be yours too by now. Your jacket hung on the back of his chair. Your socks filled one of his drawers. He never mentioned it. Never asked for space. If anything, he pulled you in closer each night—hands on your waist, breath warm on your shoulder, like having you there helped him sleep.

It helped you, too.

Things were… normal. Or the closest thing to it. Missions rotated in and out. The mess hall was always too loud. The hallways always smelled faintly of coolant and burned caf. But you felt steady again. Strong. Like you were standing on your own feet, not flinching every time the alert buzzed.

The scar on your ribs itched occasionally, but that was it… and you could live with that.

What you hadn’t expected was how easily Cassian folded into your routines—and how much you missed him when he was gone, even for a day or two. 

You still weren’t sure what to call this—what you were to each other. But it didn’t matter much when he looked at you the way he did. When his hands found your hips in the dark, or when he poured you caf before you could even ask.

You were his. That was enough.

For now

[dovesdreaming]

Saw you were willing to do cassandra nova x reader requests!!

Cassandra x reader, r is a rare find in the void. Cassandra has seen dozens of villains and minor heros but reader was an Xmen or avenger, like major leagues. She can't wait to collect them.

Part of my collection

I loved this request!!!! I hoped I portrayed her character well as this is the most dialogue I’ve ever done (which isn’t actually a lot 💀). I’ve loved every single request I’ve received for her so far <3

Word count: 1k

Warnings: none -contains spoilers!

Not proofread

One minute you were in the tva and the next you were lying on the ground of what appeared to be a wasteland. You knelt up on your elbows and adjusted your eyes to the light, great this was just great you thought. As you start to stand up you hear a loud roaring of engines getting louder. You turned around only to be met with an army of cars and weaponry, this was just getting better. The cars all stopped in a circle around you, trapping you. Due to being tired from your fall into the void you tried all you could to fight them off but they seemed to know their way around powers. While you were fighting three men off in front of you one managed to sneak up behind and whack on the head, knocking you out cold onto the sand. You could have normally easily fought them all but you were drained and being knocked out for a second time definitely wasn’t going to help.

Waking up for the second time you were now in a cage being pulled by one of the many cars, tied to the centre. You fought at the rope but it only made it tighter, your powers were getting weaker as you got more tired so you saved anything you had til you could make a clean escape. The cars pulled up to what you recognised as Antman and his hands opened up to reveal more people. All clad in armour and weapons, some you even recognised from your own universe. You knew not to get attached to these versions though as they didn’t seem to be half as welcoming as ones from back home.

Two large men rough houses you from the cage into the centre of the sort of town they had. Everyone stared down at you, some in shock most looking like they want a piece of you in a fight. It was looking less and less likely that you would be able to escape but you kept alert for any small chances that appeared.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for something or someone and that was when Antmans helmet open to reveal a figure at the top of the ramp. A bald woman but you couldn’t deny that they were an attractive one. If you could move your hands you would have slapped yourself, this was no time to think like that she was probably going to kill you. You had thought she was going to walk down and kill you infront of everyone yet the men holding your restraints dragged you up the ramp before dumping you at her feet. They then left you there letting the helmet shut behind them.

There was a deafening silence as she slowly walked in a circle round you. You were on your knees staring at the ground but you could tell she was taking all of you in, it almost made your heart beat quicken if it wasn’t for the fact you were also scared of her. She stopped back where she had started, in front of you. She leant down and pulled your chin up, ever so slightly ruff, to look into your eyes. That’s when a wicked grin spread across her face and she stood back up to her full height.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for one of you”. While slightly confused what was so special about yourself you guessed it had something to do with variants. “I’ve had countless avengers from the hulk to the scarlet witch. I’ve had countless x men. Yet you.. not a single one of you”. This made you curl ever so slightly back in on yourself, instead of feeling threatened by her words they just made you question whether you were the worst of your variants for managing to end up here. She crouched back down infront of you, taking ahold of your chin again while quietly saying “what did you do to end up here? Hm” she maintained strong eye contact and gripped your cheeks, squishing them and then mockingly said “shame such a pretty face will go to waste in the void”. You hated to admit it but something about her was just so attracting, the way she spoke made your heart flutter.

She then raised herself back up and turned away from you. Taking small steps while in thought. “I could keep you and have you all too myself, finally adding you to my collection or I could finally kill one of you”. Your life was on the line and yet all you could think about was wanting her to turn back around so that you could stare at her face again. You shouldn’t be like this, you should be looking for an exit plan, you probably had enough powers to try and make a run for it but she seemed to take all your focus turning all other thoughts into background noise. “I think I’ll keep you, who else could say they captured one of your kind. Only me having one of you, how powerful we could be together”. You found yourself excited at this prospect, no longer concerned with escaping her lair and the void all together. In a fake sad voice she said “Though I do have to look into your mind to see just how horrible you’ve been to get here”. And as she stuck her fingers into your head, feeling around and appearing in your memories you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Your new focus was Cassandra, someone who thought you were pretty and good enough to rule with her. How could you deny such an offer? Things were looking pretty good if she kept sweet talking you and allowed you to stare at her.

Thank you for reading!!!

[advisorykitty]

Hii! Could you maybe do Randal head canons with a shy!wheelchair user reader? I’ve never seen anyone make anything for wheelchair users so I thought I should maybe ask myself since I use a wheelchair. This is also my first time requesting anything so I’m a bit nervous, I’m so sorry 😭 I love your writing as well!<3

Randal x Shy!wheelchair user reader

Head canons! thanks so much for enjoying my writing and I just could'nt say no! ^_^

Randal is surprisingly accommodating, though in his own peculiar way. He’ll always push your wheelchair before you can even ask, often steering you toward weird, secluded places without explanation.

He loves the idea that you rely on him more than most people. To him, it’s just another way you’re “meant to be together.”

If you’re shy about asking for help, Randal notices and offers anyway, though sometimes in an unsettlingly overzealous manner, like insisting on feeding you or carrying you when it’s not necessary.

He’s obsessively protective. If someone so much as glances at you the wrong way, Randal will glare at them until they leave—or offer to “handle” it for you.

Randal doesn’t care about accessibility issues; he’ll find ways around them. If there’s no ramp, he’ll just carry you and the chair up the stairs, no questions asked.

He tries to “decorate” your wheelchair with creepy little charms, stickers, or accessories. “It’s cute,” he says with a grin, though the tiny doll heads he glued on might suggest otherwise.

If you’re shy about meeting new people, Randal is your unintentional shield. His creepy aura tends to scare most people away, leaving you with fewer awkward social interactions.

He loves how soft-spoken you are and says things like, “Your voice is the only one I want to hear anyway!!.” It’s sweet, but the intensity makes you nervous.

Randal has no patience for anyone who makes you uncomfortable. He’s made at least one teacher or coworker mysteriously disappear after they inconvenienced you.

Despite his quirks, Randal seems genuinely infatuated with you and insists, “We’re perfect together.”

Randal is absolutely fascinated by your wheelchair. Not in a rude way, but in a Randal way. He’ll randomly tap the wheels, push you without warning (“Hold on, we’re going for a ride!”), or insist on decorating it with unsettling additions, like doll limbs or fake blood splatter. He thinks it gives your chair “character.”

If you’re shy, Randal sees it as “adorably mysterious.” He’ll take your quiet demeanor as a challenge to get a reaction out of you. Whether it’s pulling a dramatic fake injury, telling you some absurdly dark joke, or straight-up wheeling you into a room full of his creepy dolls, he thrives on watching you squirm.

Randal loves the fact that you’re so patient with him. “You’re so sweet! Almost too sweet. Like… maybe I should bite you and find out, huh?” He’ll laugh it off, but you can’t tell if he’s joking.

He keeps suggesting “fun games” that involve putting your physical safety at risk. “Wheelchair jousting!” he’ll declare, wielding a broomstick. You decline every time, but he’s persistent.

Randal insists on carrying spare parts for your wheelchair, even though he has no clue how to use them. “If your wheel falls off, I’ll just… duct tape it back, okay?” It’s the thought that counts.

He offers to let you sleep in his coffin when you’re tired, completely serious. “It’s super cozy, and I’ll even let you have the pillow. I’ll just… sit and watch you.”

Randal loves pushing you into creepy places for his “adventures.” You don’t want to go, but his enthusiasm is hard to deny. “C’mon, Y/N! Don’t you want to see what’s behind the door labeled ‘DO NOT ENTER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES’? Spoiler alert: it’s probably something terrifying~”

He views your shyness as a reason to be even more possessive. “You’re too nice to everyone else. That’s my job. Be nice to me only, okay?” He’s half-joking… probably.

Randal has this strange way of treating you like one of his dolls. He’ll fix your hair or drape a creepy blanket over your lap, humming a weird little tune as he does it.

You try to set boundaries, but Randal either “forgets” or just ignores them. Personal space? What’s that? He’s always leaning over your chair or popping up behind you like a jump scare.

Mini-Interviews!!

Nyen: “She’s quiet. Too quiet. I don’t know if it’s the chair or just her personality, but she seems… fragile. Like she’ll break if you even look at her wrong. Randal, though? He treats her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. It’s weird. They’re weird. Whatever. Not my problem.” Doesn't exactly care much for you but he does laugh whenever Randal places somewhere you don't like. Luther: “Sie ist ruhiger als die meisten. But she’s nice. Almost too nice. And Randal? Well, he’s obsessed. I don’t know if that’s good for her, but she doesn’t seem unhappy yet. She has a strong heart, I think. She’ll need it to deal with him.” Wow! Humans like you are so rare! He'd probably like you considering how shy you are , not an ounce of selfishness in you! Randal: “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Perfect. I love how she’s so shy and sweet and just mine!. I’ll take care of her forever, no matter what. It’s fate, don’t you think? Even her wheelchair it’s like she was made to be with me. I’ll protect her” He's a bit possessive and well..! Yeah! Goodluck because he isn't letting go of you.. Sebastian: “I don’t get her. She’s nice ,maybe too nice? And shy? Not my type, honestly. But Randal is smitten, so good for him, I guess. Keeps him off my back. Still... I don’t know how she deals with him. I sure couldn’t.” Eternally grateful for how much of Randal's time you consume, it's more time for him to figure out how to escape! Nyon: “She’s um, nice. Quiet. I think she’s ... nervous?,, by Randal sometimes, but she doesn’t say it. I hope she's okay. She seems okay. I don’t know her well, though. Maybe she needs help? but I'm not sure how to give it..” You don't really cross paths that often, when you do its usually him bringing you back from Randal's closet or wherever he left you.