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aenaxes-moved · 4 years ago

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[hunter x afab!reader] hunter thinks it's a good idea for you to learn hand-to-hand. and if it's a way for you to see him sweaty, sleeveless, and in close quarters, who are you to turn down the perfect opportunity?

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex

w/c: 4.7k

a/n: i'm a simple creature—i see the sexual tension of hand-to-hand combat, and i am brought low. also the marauder has a cargo hold for literary purposes, now. anyways enjoy my first nsfw fic on this blog. reposting bc tumblr censored me :/

“Try again,” Hunter orders as he crouches down beside where you lie sprawled, chest heaving and arms limp on the training mat. “Just like I showed you: trap the wrist, lock the arm, twist and throw.”

“Unlike you,” you wheeze, struggling to lift your head off the floor, “I’m not exactly built to throw people around.” You forego your weak attempt to get up, and you swear you feel your teeth rattle as the back of your head hits the mat with a dull thud.

You turn your head, meeting the sergeant's piercing gaze with a weary half-grimace half-grin. There’s a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes—maybe incredulity—that he might be training a half-fledged jedi in the brutally graceful art of floorslamming an opponent over a shoulder while the others had taken Omega on a trip to meet the natives. It’s something you should know well, having spent your youth under the wild and unrelenting martial acrobatics of master Voss, but at the end of the day, you would choose swordplay over brute physicality without hesitation.

Especially if you’re facing off against an opponent who can and has hefted you high above his head and practically launched you across the training mat.

If Hunter’s amused at all by this knowledge, he only makes it known with a huff.

“Empire’s out for your head; you need to learn to fight in more ways than your fancy jedi training. That includes hand-to-hand just in case you lose your lightsaber. Again.”

“That was once, Hunter!” you whine, warmth spreading across your cheeks. But he’s right. Loathe as you are to admit it, no amount of force pushing would have gotten you out of that mess on Onderon, and it was a miracle (otherwise known as Echo) that you’d found your lightsaber at all.

It’s an embarrassing memory and, deeper down, a dangerous one that could have ended in more than stray blaster fire. Petulant as you would like to be, Hunter has a point. So you reach up, flapping your hand about until you feel Hunter’s hand wrap around yours, callused and firm, and yank you up to your feet. You stumble as you regain your footing, but as soon as you’ve collected your bearings, you’re shaking your hands out and bouncing on the tips of your toes.

“Fuck it. Let me try again.”

“Do you want me to go slower on the approach?” Hunter asks, this time, a sure note of playful teasing dancing over his tongue. The corners of his lips curl up, imperceptible to most, but you’ve flown long enough with the crew to pick up on his slight giveaways. You narrow your eyes, fixing him with an accusatory frown.

“‘Imps won’t slow down for you y/n,’” you parrot his words with a sour expression, begrudging theatrics complete with an exaggerated eye roll.

Hunter laughs, but he’s already drawing back into a low crouch, arms raised and muscles coiled, ready to strike. You take the brief moment of clarity between your warm up and readying stance to admire him, his hair tied with his bandana, piercing eyes set in a razor focus as his chest rises and falls, even, steady. The sharp clarity is made complete, authentic, with his garb. Having swapped his standard blacks for a sleeveless top, a sheer veil of sweat glimmers brushed over the toned muscle rippling under his skin. It’s an appealing point of motivation, a reward for the small price of being thrown around for the past hour.

“You’re learning,” Hunter smiles, small and crooked, but a smile that breaks past his stolid stoicism nonetheless. “Attagirl.”

Your heart flutters, and you lunge.

Two rapid steps, and you’re meeting Hunter in the middle as he rushes towards you. Right foot, anchor heel, pivot, and the sharp wind of his arm shooting forward nearly knocks the breath from your lungs as it just barely brushes past your cheek.

He’s fast. But you’re faster, you challenge, and you shoot your left arm up, closing your grip with your right hand and trapping his forearm in your hands just beneath the hem of his glove. And when you find secure purchase, confident enough that he can’t counter, you yank with a sharp, vindictive shout. For the first time today, your grip holds.

You feel him roll over your shoulder, guided by your hand, compelled by gravity, and you’ve won. After all the blocks and parries and attacks-turned-scrambling-defenses, you’ve got Hunter exactly where you want him. Hunter may have size, bulk, experience—well, everything other than the Force—that you don’t, but if he’s taught you anything during your time with the batch it’s that timing is king.

You whoop as you feel his back roll off yours, squeezing your eyes shut as you claim your victory into the empty cargo hold.

You forget, however, the unspoken and very important step of letting go.

As soon as the split-second of simple victory flashes through you, you yelp, pulled off your feet and centre of balance flung off to the far reaches of the room. You’re reduced to an ungraceful flail of limbs and panicked disorientation as you fall, bracing yourself for an imminent collision and a sure promise of a bruise the day after. But instead of the forgiving, plasticky foam of the floor, you land with a soft oof on something else, harder than the mat, damp, bony…?

When you open your eyes, you’re propped up on one elbow, your other shoulder dipped close against Hunter’s chest, and your nose just a breath away from his collar, and, Maker help you, you can see his collarbones, sharp and clean through his blacks, rising and falling rhythmically with his heavy, straining breaths. You lift your head just in time to meet Hunter’s eyes, lightly curtained by one single swath of perfectly mussed stray hair, pupils blown wide with pride, wonder, and—

Shit.

“Uh, yay me?” you offer weakly, hoping you can blame the tremble in your voice on bone-deep exhaustion, not the blooming heat roiling in your gut.

“Yeah,” Hunter says, eyes trained on yours, steady and still.

It doesn’t take force sensitivity to feel the tension buzzing high in what little space separates your faces, the boundaries of playful sportsmanship bowing under the weight of testing curiosity, circling, prodding. The breath that passes your lips quivers, of which you’re only aware when you see Hunter’s eyes flick briefly to your lips. He lingers a moment, and you swallow hard, almost audibly, when you catch a flash of his tongue darting over his lower lip.

It might be an adrenaline high—his dilated pupils, the wild thumping of your heart against your ribs. High velocity combat and being thrown flat onto your back would do that.

You hope it isn’t.

The silence is enough to steal the sound from your tongue, just low breathing as you hover above him. It demands to be broken, something to be the first push back into the rhythm of which you have become so accustomed, the comfortable banter and competition devoid of anything more than meaningless flirting. Because for his ruggedly handsome looks, his commandeering presence, an aura that had men and women sending him drinks from across the bar, you had never let yourself seriously entertain the idea of being able to have him.

It’s hard to entertain attraction, much less romance, when you and the batch are high priority on the Empire’s list to shoot on sight, but the possibility has kept you awake at night, fingers shoved between your thighs while he sleeps two doors down. The fantasy of having, breathing him in like air, makes you feel alive, makes you feel the rare and fleeting feeling of safety. You, exiled jedi. Him, one of millions, the dedicated soldier sworn to a cause.

And yet, here you are.

Hunter lifts one hand from the floor, reaching up to brush the hair from your eyes, and you find yourself having to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from turning your head and nuzzling into his palm, from pushing close and staying, indulging. And while your mind blurs in the frantic flurry of fighting it, he gives in freely, turning his wrist to run his gloved thumb over your jaw. It’s the softest you’ve ever found standard issue blacks to feel, but more importantly, it’s the closest he’s ever been.

“Yay you,” he whispers.

Hunter leans forward, sliding his hand across the side of your neck, his thumb soft at your ear as he curls his fingers into your hair and closes the distance. One moment there’s a vast breadth of space between you; the next, you feel Hunter’s nose brushing over your cheek, his breath ghosting over your skin for that last moment of separation. Then you’re moving with him, meeting his lips with soft motions pleading for more as you slide one hand up into his hair and press your chests flush.

He doesn’t taste quite like your dreams, all smooth, sweet freshness dancing over your tongue. Instead, there is raw exhaustion and strain bitter and heady on his skin as he licks over your lower lip. But no matter; it is real and present and Hunter all the same.

The training room silence is broken when he nudges a knee between your legs, pressing close between the want pooling low in your belly, as you barely manage to muffle a whimper into his mouth, breathy and high as you break away to gasp. Hunter grants you that moment of rest, and he’s pulling you back down against him again, holding you tight.

“I’ll stop if you want,” he mumbles against your lips. “We stop, and we forget this ever happened. But.” He pauses to nip at your lips. “You give me the word, and we take this as far as you want, y/n. Understood?”

You nod, too busy chasing his tongue to feel his gaze fixed on you. And, as always, your blissful ignorance does not escape Hunter’s watchful eye. You whine as you feel his fingers close around your chin and lift, pulling away just enough that you can see his dark eyes steady on yours.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper, reduced to little more than pleading submission, doe-eyed and dreamy as he slowly runs his thumb over your lip. “Want you, Hunter. Need you.”

“Attagirl.”

He makes a noise that sounds like quiet laughter, but all you care about is that he’s nuzzling against your skin and holding you close. Hunter kisses you with a trembling restraint that you practically feel vibrating under his touch, the excitement of being able to have, the roiling fear of intimacy, vulnerable and open under your palms.

It’s something you know well. You feel the same.

“We should really wash up,” he murmurs into your mouth.

“‘Fresher’s big enough for two,” you say a bit cheekily.

“You really want it all, huh?” Hunter chuckles, squeezing the back of your neck as he presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Never get anything if you don’t ask,” you smile against his lips.

“Can’t disappoint the lady, then, can I?” he grins, dropping his head back down onto the training mat. You sigh, resting your cheek on his collar for a single breath before you feel him shift beneath you, pulling you into his lap as he sits upright. Hunter offers you a final peck, a promise for more in just a short while.

You silently promise you’ll return to the hold come morning and clean up the mats before Echo can chew you out for any sloppiness, but cleanliness is the least of your concerns as you stumble with Hunter towards the threshold, all soft laughter and kisses strayed off their mark. Whatever concerns about anything other than the bliss of the now are even more obscured as the refresher doors slide shut behind you. You laugh as Hunter twists out of his blacks, which almost has you tripping out of your own, but he’s there to catch you, sturdy arms and warm skin to pull you into the stall and under a startling shock of cold water.

Maybe it’s that brief shock of cold before the showerhead runs warm that offers you a moment of clarity, the space and quiet to realize where you stand and take in the man before you. You’re no stranger to proximity, having spent more than one mission squeezed up against Hunter’s side, but closeness doesn’t begin to describe where you stand now, bared to each other beyond simple undress.

A smattering of scars stretches over Hunter’s skin, an organized chaos of milky pockmarks and slashes so often hidden under his armor. You recognize a few, blaster fire and frightened memories of blood and acrid fear, and the rest you save for a later night when you’ve sated the flutter in your chest as your eyes drift lower.

It would be embarrassing, how your mouth waters when you catch sight of his cock, half-hard and framed by a dark thatch of curls. But any need for shame is dismissed by the sheer gravity of want because he’s thick. You had always imagined him to be big—that isn’t much of a surprise—but your stomach churns delightfully at the thought of him stretching you open, making you feel him for days after.

“You’re staring,” Hunter huffs softly.

“Can you blame me?” you breathe.

Hunter laughs, rich and resonant over the patter of the shower spray, and he reaches that short distance forward, gently taking your hand in his and lifting your palm to his lips. You step backwards, letting him crowd you between the wall as you cup his cheek.

His hands, rarely bared to his brothers, let alone you, are strong and weary with scars of war, and he lets them follow the slope of your arm, tracing down your shoulder, your waist, and coming down to your hips, seeing in full clarity under his fingertips.

“Hold on tight.”

“Hunter, wait—ah!”

You yelp as he slips his forearms under your thighs without warning, hefting you up against the cool metal. In your hazy delirium, it occurs to you that you’re both exhausted from sparring and that him holding you up would only wear him down further. You want to tell him you’re perfectly fine on your feet. But whatever protest you may have had planned dies on your lips with a choked sob when you feel his fingers knead into the soft skin of your thighs and tug.

You arch off the wall, breath catching in your throat when you feel Hunter shift his hips forward and anchor you in place as he grinds his cock over your clit. Any hope of forming coherent words, let alone sound, is completely beyond you, now. Heat coils in your gut, all-consuming, white-hot tension pulled tight and ready to snap with each slow motion he makes.

And—the bastard—he’s good at it, too, leaving you squirming under his grip when he shifts away, cruelly aware of the brief moment just as your pleasure crests. Hunter lets you whine, filling the space with firm, insistent kisses over your collar: enough time for your high to ebb, enough time for him to stoke the frustration, the need tight in your core. Then he’s pressing your hips against the wall again and chasing you forwards, hips flush as he nips over your jaw.

All you find yourself able to do is dig your nails into his shoulders and sob.

“Shit, are you crying?” Hunter gasps, nearly dropping you down into a helpless heap under the warm water.

You shake your head wildly, locking your ankles around the small of his back as you keep him in place. It’s enough to startle him back into stillness, and he readjusts his grip on your thighs, the weight of his cock heavy against your throbbing cunt as you gasp for breath.

“I just—I’m fine,” you laugh, bordering delirious as stray drops of water catch on your tongue. “Just fuck me, Hunter. Make it better,” you breathe, chest heaving as you lick your lips. “Please.”

You know the expression that flashes across his face, the need to tease and prod, making gentle light of a dire situation. But this time, Hunter does not entertain it with his signature deadpan drawl, instead meeting you with a soft, imploring kiss.

“So pretty when you beg,” he whispers.

You open your mouth to offer a snappy retort; even in your desperation, there must be some dignity. Instead, your ears fill with the sound of your stuttering gasp over the water pattering against the refresher walls as, finally, finally, you feel the blunt head of his cock dip into your cunt.

Hunter pushes into you with a maddening slowness, one that reduces you to breathless whimpering broken between what gasps you can take. You dig your heels into his back and meet him with a straining moan because Maker, he’s even bigger than you thought, and it’s everything you’ve ever needed.

“Gotta breathe,” Hunter grunts, sinking deeper into you.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a reminder for you or for him, but you manage to slip in a gasping breath before he’s nudging up against a spot that has tears blurring your vision in dizzy euphoria. And when you come down from that high spark, legs jerking over his arms, he’s still pushing impossibly deep into you.

You watch him in a dazed trance, fixed on how his brows furrow with each quiet, flinching gasp that passes his parted lips as your cunt flutters around him. And how, through it all, his eyes never leave yours, boring into you with a fierce intensity, devotion, demanding your attention and pleading for your touch. It’s more than pure physicality, sex under the crushing uncertainty of a bounty and the shadow of conquest at your heels. He reaches for you, as open as he’s ever been, and you reach back.

“Hunter, I—”

Your words give way to a long, aching moan as you feel the sharp dip of his hips finally press up against your ass, filling you like you’ve always been meant to take him. (And you have, you swear, to him, to everything you know.)

“Gonna start moving, okay?” Hunter says through a shuddering sigh. He trails one hand up your side, thumbing over your chin while you tremble in his arms. “Cyar’ika, tell me I can.”

“Please,” you whimper.

And he delivers. You whine, feeling the slow drag, the toe-curling burn as Hunter eases almost completely out of you then pushes back in, just as slow as the first. He’s measured in his motions, and if you could see past the tears welling in your eyes, you’re sure you would see the razor focus over his features. There’s a tense edge you can barely make out from your slack-jawed disorientation, a restraint behind each careful thrust. He’s savoring it, you think as you bite down on the inside of your cheek.

But when Hunter jerks forward, punching the breath from your lungs as he drives up hard, pulling an obscene noise from your lips with a stuttering apology, you realize it’s not some way to draw this out as long as humanly possible. And as good as it is now, it’s not enough.

“H-Hunter,” you start. “Hunter, you—you don’t have to hold back—!” Your voice rises to a wavering pitch when you feel his thumb trail down your stomach, nestling close above where you part around him as he starts to rub gentle motions into your clit.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps sharply with you when he presses deep again.

“You—you physically threw me across the cargo hold—like an hour ago,” you laugh through hiccupy sighs.

“That was different,” he chokes out a soft chuckle. “I want this to be good. For you.”

Trembling wildly, you muster the strength to lift your hand to his cheek, stroking over his wet skin as the refresher patters down around you. The aching stretch of Hunter’s cock between your thighs ebbs into something sweet, warming your chest when he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“You are good to me,” you whisper, brushing your thumb over his skin. “I want this. I want you.”

You hear him inhale sharp, holding his breath as he meets you with dark eyes, wide and searching. To his gaze, you offer him a soft smile. And it’s enough.

You barely have enough time to loop your arms around his neck and hold as Hunter shifts his grip, firm and high up on your thighs, and starts a brutal pace that has you near screaming into his neck. Your legs jerk helplessly with every relentless thrust, and you find yourself knotting your fingers into his hair, cradling his head for some—any—purchase you can find.

It’s reminders like this that while Hunter doesn’t have the imposing stature or towering height of his brothers, his sheer presence alone is overwhelming, surrounding you and consuming you whole in ways the others simply could never. The power is intoxicating, crushing in its pressure, the submission and release to pleasure it demands of you, and you sob, a whiny, choked sound you barely hear over the frantic, wet slap of Hunter’s skin against yours. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and it’s so, so achingly good.

“Fuck, I’ve always—” Hunter gasps, craning his neck to nuzzle up against your jaw. “I’ve always wanted to do this. To have you like this.” You turn your head, meeting him in a lopsided kiss, all tongue and shared breath. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

“More,” you whine, crying out when he pins you against the wall, just so he might reach between your thighs again and thumb insistently over your clit.

Even with the water showering over your skin, you’re distinctly aware of the tears streaking down your cheeks, only fitting for the overwhelming sensation building in your core, cresting in blinding heat with every drag, every ridge of his cock moving inside you.

He fucks into you with soft noises, low enough that they might be drowned out by the sound of water if you weren’t pressed so close. It’s fitting, that the stolid discipline of a sergeant might follow him off the battlefield and into the bedroom, but as characteristic of him as it may be, you can’t bring yourself to particularly care—not when he’s holding you up like a ragdoll and bending you to his pleasure. You cling tighter to him with a muffled sob.

It’s nothing like your nights alone in your bunk, wishing for a warm body and something more than hopeful fantasy. Where your fingers only offered you a shot of momentary bliss, this feels like you’re falling apart in his hands, utterly powerless in only the best of ways as the coil in your gut draws tight.

“‘m close,” you croak as the heat seeps bone-deep, spreading down your spine, blazing in the tips of your fingers, and finding home in the buzzing haze between your eyes. “Hunter, I’m—I’m so close.”

“Let go,” Hunter croons, bearing the rough pad of his thumb harder against your clit, pressing firm with every thrust forward, soothing as he draws back. Your cunt squeezes down around him with the spike in want pooled in your gut, drawing a low moan from his lips, and he meets you with a thrust hard enough that you squeal. “Doin’ so well, cyar’ika.”

Trembling, you bury your nose in the juncture of his neck, but you’re pressed backward instead, a light, unyielding pressure at your neck before the back of your head is guided against the metal wall. Hunter holds you at the throat, nothing but a hovering presence of his warmth over your skin, but enough that he commands your attention, steady gaze, pupils blown as he thrusts up against you, pushing you higher and higher against that mindless gap of pleasure with every intent to pull you apart.

“Look at me, y/n,” he murmurs, low and hoarse. “Look at me when you come.”

He drives into you once more, hard, and the tension mounting in your gut breaks like a dam, flooding over your tongue in sweet, simple pleasure that pulses and shudders through your core. You feel it like your body, your visceral pleasure, is not your own, floating in a mindless state of bliss no longer anchored to anything but your rapidly beating heart and the shivering tremors buzzing at your fingertips. Lips parted in a silent cry, your lashes flutter as you let yourself be swept up in the peak of your pleasure, swept up in him, his gaze trained firm, fond on yours.

And you’re too fucked out to do more than gasp, breathy, stuttering inhales as Hunter settles his hands around your waist and starts a pace impossibly faster than before. Somehow, through the aching tremor in your legs and your limp form pressed up against the wall, you manage to keep your grip steady and keep your arms wrapped snug around Hunter’s shoulders. He pulls your pleasure, agonizingly long with no end in sight, chasing his high as you whimper and plead unintelligibly into his ear.

“C-Close?” you manage, digging your fingertips deeper into the sinew of his back.

Hunter hums, a feeble attempt to keep what little composure he has left, but you feel his movements lose the steady rhythm he had maintained thus far, forgoing fluidity and grace for the raw and primal need to satiate. Lucid sensation beyond you, you simply let him take his fill, lazily running your tongue over his lips and holding him tight as he continues to fuck into you with erratic, stuttering thrusts.

And not a moment later, Hunter bears your hips down hard on his, gasping like he’s taken his first breath of air as his climax thunders through him. You squirm in his hold with a thready groan, reveling in the warm spurts of come filling your cunt and oozing down the curve of your ass onto the refresher floor. For all your exhaustion, you curl your fingers at the base of his neck, pulling him close into a slow, lazy kiss, more languid touches than an actual kiss, but a promise of intimacy all the same.

Hunter tips forward and shifts one arm to wrap snug around the small of your back, propping you both against the wall with the other as the tension drains from his coiled poise. He sags forward with a final, shuddering sigh, pulling out of you and setting you on your wobbly feet, to which you promptly pitch forward against his shoulder.

He laughs and catches you with breathless ease.

“I have no idea how we didn’t slip,” you gasp through heaving inhales, shuddering as you feel warm rivulets of come dripping down the skin of your inner thigh. As the pleasure subsides, you return to your surroundings in a haze, faintly aware of the running showerhead, the steam, and you drop your head forward, knocking your forehead gently against Hunter’s.

“Neither do I,” he laughs and nuzzles close. “Next time, we’ll pick somewhere with less water.”

“Next time?” you prod, knowing full well that neither you nor Hunter were particularly fond of mindless flings.

“Next time,” Hunter grins, tipping his head forward and brushing his lips over your brow.

“If you two are done in there!” Echo’s voice, exasperation weary and gruff, cuts through the patter of water against the metal paneling with a bang, nearly sending you and Hunter scrambling apart if the refresher stall wasn’t already so narrow. “We need showers!”

“What do you mean ‘you two?’” Omega chirps from outside the door. You have to clap your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing aloud as you watch the rosy pallor drain from Hunter’s face as you hear her muffled protests as someone (likely Wrecker) coaxes her away.

“Not it—you’re giving her the talk,” you quip, biting back a smile as you peck his cheek.

“Maker help me,” he mutters.

#argh tumblr censored my first post #anyways #i originally wanted to write a sparring scene with wrecker but. i think that wouldn't really give you a fighting chance #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #bad batch x reader #yaej.writes #filter

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xwing-baby · 4 years ago

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I Don’t Trust You (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

for @propertyofdindjarin - sorry its so late but i hope you enjoy this!!

Characters: Din Djarin x gn!reader (i dont think i used any gendered language in this but let me know if i did and ill change the tag)

Word Count: 8k (this really ran away with me lol)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, description of injury, canon level violence, little steamy (kissing, insinuated smut), threat of death, like one swear word, pre show! Din

Summary: The Mandalorian killed you two years ago, yet here you are alive and well on a different planet. The Mandalorian is called in to help you and your team of royal guards find a missing princess. Things go horribly wrong and you are left to journey home with your worst enemy...

A/N: shout out to the random radio 4 play that gave me the idea for the plot of this and to @propertyofdindjarin for the request for enemies to lovers! i’ve never done this trope before and im not sure if i really did it justice but i enjoyed writing it at least hahah i hope you like it too darling and thanks for requesting!

“The Master is calling in reinforcements from a bounty hunter for this mission,” The general in charge of your squad spoke as the team dressed.

“Who?”

“A Mandalorian,” The general answered.

“We don’t need a Mandalorian,” You spoke up bitterly, looking up as you finally pulled your boots on. The general sighed, used to your defiance and vocal hatred of The Mandalorian. He rolled his eyes at your attitude.

“We need all the help we can get on this,”

“I don’t need a Mandalorian,” You corrected yourself.

“I don’t care about your opinion. My word is final. And besides, there is nothing you can do he is arriving… now,”

A knock at the door turned everyone’s heads. The general nodded and it was opened to reveal the shining armour of the Mandalorian. You scowled as you watched the Mandalorian swan into the room, newly polished armour glinting in the light. You frowned and turned your attention away from him, just the sight of him made you exasperated.

You didn’t understand why The Master would want to bring him in, he was expensive and more importantly an asshole. All the hard work you and your team would put in on this mission would undoubtedly be overshadowed by him. He would be praised no end and paid a handsome fee while you would probably be berated for not meeting his standard and not get any reward for returning the princess.

It was the second attempt to get the Master’s daughter back from her kidnappers. The first time had been a complete failure and caused the gang to go into deeper hiding. It had taken weeks to locate her new location, there was no room for error this time. The princess had to be returned.

The Mandalorian had noticed you the moment he entered the room. He was surprised to see you alive at all, he’d assumed you were dead, having killed you two years prior. But here you were in a brand new system, alive and well. He didn’t say a word on the matter, he’d been paid for your bounty already, it wasn’t his fault you had miraculously survived.

You sat in silence, glaring at the Mandalorian across the room, while the General spoke about the plan for the mission. You grumbled and rolled your eyes when he made suggestions. The nerve of him. Coming here invited and not trusting your plan. The grumble earned you a sharp elbow in the ribs and a hiss to shut up.

With the plan set, you began the long trip out to the location. It was far, a days trip by speeder at least. Across plains, over mountains, through valleys and finally to the destination. A small building atop a large hill. It was strangely open, considering how long it had taken to find. The sun was going down by the time you arrived. You were apprehensive to approach so quickly, wanting to wait out but you had no power amongst this group, especially with the Mandalorian validating the plan there was no way you’d win. The group dismounted the speeders mere feet from the entrance, loaded their guns and went inside, barely stopping for a second once their feet touched the ground.

You however did not follow. Ordered to stay outside, they didn’t trust you. You were to keep watch, not that there was anything to watch for. Two years on the planet and you were still considered an outsider. Your reputation had not preceded you but it quickly caught up. Within two weeks of your arrival, whispers of your real name had floated across the galaxy until it landed into the mouth of the Master. You were allowed to stay, only if you joined the royal guard to put your skills to use.

The royal guard didn’t trust you, used you as a scapegoat on any occasion and sent you in many suicide missions purely because you were expendable. But as even the Mandalorian knew, you were very hard to kill. You came back every single time with nothing more than a scratch. Instead of your action gaining their trust it bred jealousy and mistrust.

You scuffed around the site, listening out for signs that the mission was complete or anyone was in trouble. The moon rose slowly into the sky, stars appeared with it giving you some entertainment as you tried to spot the constellations familiar to you. A twinge of anxiety cut your stomach, they should have been out long ago. You should have followed to help

Suddenly, a bone-breaking thunderous sound erupted from below and the ground began to shake. You were frozen to the spot until your spot began to fall away. The ground beneath you shook and collapsed inwards. You scrambled out the way, moving to where the ground was stable again. The building your squad had gone inside had collapsed, screams and cries of terror could be heard from inside. The building fell, then fell further. All you could do was watch in horror as where the building once stood, a crater appeared. Dust plumed from the wreck, filling your lungs and scratching your eyes. You coughed and spluttered, shielding your face from it.

Soon the dust settled and things became clearer. The devastation was all that was left. And the Mandalorian. Stood alone on the opposite side of the great crater, he looked down into the hole for a moment, thinking, before making his way around to where you were. He didn’t stop to talk to you as he passed, simply readjusting his vambrace and walking away. Disturbed by his lack of reaction it took you a moment to react, you watched him walk a few paces ahead before running after him.

“Hey!” You called after him, “Where are you going?”

“There’s no speeders. We’ll have to walk,” He said, not stopping.

“They’ll kill us if we return without the princess!” You protested.

“They’ll kill you when you don’t return with the girl,” Mando corrected you, “Unless you want to walk climb in there and search through rubble, the only thing to do is walk back,”

“It’ll take days! There’s no way you’d make it back to the city in one piece,”

“Who said I was going back there?”

“You have to finish the job,”

“The job is finished,”

“You arrogant son of a bitch,” You scoffed as he continued to walk away. He picked up his pace, “I told Illana that we didn’t need you,” You shouted angrily. Din didn’t reply, trying to block out your whinging. “You’re a waste of money, everyone knows Mandalorians don't work well in teams. There’s a reason you all got wiped out,” You snarled. That comment bristled Din. He knew you were only baiting for a fight, angry your squad had died and he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. It wasn’t advantageous for anyone, “What happened in there? You blow it up to make the job easier? You killed them all,”

Din ignored your questioning. He hadn’t killed them, he had barely made it out alive

“She was just a child and you killed her, for what? Tell me!”

He turned when he heard the load up of a blaster behind him. Your blaster, loaded and waiting in your hand was pointed at his back while he walked ahead. He whipped around just as fast, his blaster pointed at you too.

“Really?” He asked.

“Talk,”

“It was a trap,”

“Liar!” You shouted.

“The girl was tied to some kind of trap that blew up the mines below the building. I was not in the room when the extraction happened. I didn’t do anything,” He explained, you didn’t reply, grinding your teeth as you tried to get your head around it. “Why would I kill them? I needed her alive,”

You hated that he was making sense. There was no real logical reason for him to kill the princess. He needed her alive to get his payment just as you did. You glared at him, fingers twitching over your blaster.

“Keep walking,” You said sternly. You turned the safety back on to the blaster though never lowering it. Din lowered his weapon. “I’m not having you anywhere out of my sight. Can’t trust you as far as I could throw you,”

Din huffed in agreement and turned to continue walking. Your blaster wasn’t going to do anything more than scuff his armour, he didn’t worry about you attacking him from behind. If you’d wanted to kill him you would have tried by now. Whatever made this whole ordeal go faster was what he was going to do.

You walked across the grassy plain for hours in total silence. At least outwardly silent. In your mind, you were cursing his name in every language you knew to any deity you could think of. Cursing him, his stupid armour and his stupid helmet. You cursed the planet, you cursed the city, you cursed the entire universe for forcing you to be stuck with the one man you hated most. You wished you had followed the squad and died with them, it would be more pleasant than this. At least with the pace the Mandalorian kept, you were going to be back to the city in record time, this nightmare could end.

Soon the grass gave way to shrubs and weeds, trees that were rare before now crowded around you. You came to a path, well-trodden and open, surprisingly. If it was this clear it was only a good thing, you were on the right path back.

“Stop,” You ordered as the path forked out in two directions. Din had chosen one path already, a few paces ahead. He stopped and turned around to see what the problem was. You were facing the second path, motioning with your blaster to cross over. “There’s a shortcut,” You said, “That forest opens back up in the West of the city. If memory serves me correctly it’ll cut our journey in half,”

“I don’t trust you,” Din said warily.

“Never said you had to trust me. If you carry on that way it’ll take another three days to walk around a huge lake and a ravine. This way cuts that out and we’ll be back in the city in two days,”

You walked forward into the break of trees, turning back when you didn’t hear him follow. He hadn’t moved, still calculating the decision. “Not scared are you, Mando?” You taunted him. “We don’t have much sunlight. Move,”

For a moment Din contemplated shooting you right there. You were rude and arrogant, nobody would question your death at all if he did it. His hand hovered over his blaster, before finally deciding against it. He needed the payment and with you alive at the end of it he would have proof he didn’t slaughter the entire garrison.

He followed you into the forest, walking in front of you as before. The trees were so dense, a few minutes of walking cut out all light. Spotlights of dusty yellow light broke through the canopy providing enough light inside to see your footing directly in front of you but nothing more. Roots covered the floor, winding around your ankles trying to pull you in so your body could supply nutrients for the plants. Branches caught on the Mandalorian’s shoulders, snapping back into your face often when they released. You learnt quickly to keep a few more paces back to stop the attacks.

You had heard stories about these forests. Fables told to the children in the city warning them of the dangers of the expansive green land. Most of them you knew to be just stories, but like most legends in the universe, there was truth to some. That knowledge kept you alert as you continued the walk.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks. You nearly crashed into him, not looking where you were going you were met with metal.

“Keep walking,” You ordered. He didn’t move, turning his head to look up at the canopy. You frowned, growing impatient. “What?”

“Quiet,” He hissed. You paused as you heard another shuffle you had thought to be Din moving. It was above you, beside you and behind you. Then you heard it, a shrill echoing cry from above. A cry you had been told to fear since day one on this planet.

They descended from every side. Five or six strong and lean warriors armed with metal spears and knives swarmed you and Din before you even had time to run.

A flurry of metal and blaster bolts occurred. You were quick on the draw taking two warriors quickly before another knocked your gun from your hands. It was immediately lost to the undergrowth. Dodging one strike then another you grabbed hold of one of the warrior's weapons, forcing it back on them to push them back. Pull, push, slash. A splash of blood as the spear cut into his skin and another dead.

You had one left. Flipping a small knife in his hand, the warrior snarled at you before pouncing. Taking out your own, you threw yourself at the warrior. Each attempted strike on your part was blocked effortlessly. Your advance became a backwards pace as you were slowly overpowered. The knife scraped against your vambrace as you blocked yet another strike creating sparks.

The warrior growled something in a language you didn’t understand as you stepped backwards again, finding yourself cornered to a tree. You growled and surged forward again, catching a slice to his cheek and shoulder before being pinned to the bark.

You cried out as a sharp bite pierced your skin, the warrior slipping past your armour and plunging their blade into your side as your hands came up and used your knife to slice their throat. A spray of blood hit your face as they fell to the ground. You fell backwards leaning against the tree for support as your head went light, you watched Din take out the remaining warriors. One on their spear, another with his blaster. He was surrounded by bodies but looked like he’d barely broken a sweat. He surveyed his area before finally noticing you. The ambush had happened so fast he barely had time to spare a glance in your direction to see how you were.

You grimaced as he walked over. He didn’t come close, not helping you, just watching. He saw the leather strapped blade on the ground beside you and the body next to you. You hissed as you tried to push yourself up, even minimal effort was aggravating the wound.

Your hand let go of the injury, revealing the blood to Din. You wiped it on your pant leg, laughing dryly as you looked up at him. You could barely see him, eyes hazy, even speaking was an effort as your throat was stinging with the threat of vomit. Din lurched forward holding out his hand. “I don’t need your help,” You garbled, trying again. This time you were successful, only for a moment as your world spinning and went black for a moment., “Stars above,” you gasped, falling forward into the Mandalorian. He caught you quickly before you fell to the floor.

“Where are you hurt?” He asked urgently.

“Under there,” You slurred, waving your arm weakly at your side. Your eyes were dropping, skin pale. It was the end, killed by a forest warrior’s blade with the Mandalorian by your side. Not how you wanted to go.

You came too in the dark. You startled, immediately on guard. The sudden movement made you cry out as pain overtook your body.

“Don’t move,” Came a gruff reply. It was the Mandalorian. Ignoring his request, you slowly pushed yourself to sit up, wincing at the pain but you couldn’t just lay there.

You then realised your armour was gone, top feeling practically bare in your undershirt. A bandage was wrapped around your ribs, soaked in blood. He had saved you.

You looked at him across the fire, confused. You had expected him to leave you for dead. You certainly should have died. Either the gods were playing a horrific joke on you by drawing out this quest with your supposed enemy or he had cared for you. You wondered how long you’d been out for. Could have been a few hours, a few days. You doubted he would care for you for that long but evidently, the bounty hunter was full of surprises.

“You should have left me,” you finally spoke. Your voice was coarse and you coughed to clear your throat. “Why’d you do that?”

He shrugged. You frowned but decided not to press the matter. You preferred living over being dead.

“How long was I out?” You asked.

“A few hours,” He replied, “Nice to have you quiet for so long,”

“Where’s my armour?”

“Here,” He said, patting the pile of metal next to him. You watched him carefully now. You needed that back if you were going to make it and didn’t entirely trust he would give it back. Parts were beskar. You knew he would try and stake a claim to it despite the fact he knew where you’d gotten it from. He’d tried it before and that had ended with you at the bottom of a rocky gorge, “I’ll give it back in the morning. You need to rest and you can’t in that,”

“It’s very important to me,” You stated.

“I know,” He said.

“How do I know you won’t take it?”

“You’ll have to trust me,” Din said. You were not about to do that. You pushed yourself to stand up, grinding your teeth to not let out the sharp pain that was splitting through your side, “Sit down,” Din ordered.

“Give me-,” As you stood up your vision went blurry, you stumbled forward into the fire pit. Luckily the Mandalorian had quick reflexes and caught you before you fell into the flames

“I didn’t save your life for you to fall into a fire,” he scolded you, helping you back to the ground. Sit,”

You shoved his hands off you and shuffled away from him. “I’ll kill you if you take it,” you grumbled.

“You would try,” Din agreed. Both of you knew you would not be a threat. While the Mandalorian had managed to flush out most of the poison some of it remained in your system. Not deadly in dosage but enough to weaken you significantly. You wouldn’t be able to get real help until you returned to the city.

Silence fell over the camp again. You stared into the fire, watching it spit and spark. A physical manifestation of your rage and embarrassment. Not only were you weak and wounded, but you were also stuck with the one person you swore would get revenge on if you ever crossed paths again. Now the only revenge you could manage was maybe to scratch his armour. You had slaughtered people, entire towns had met their end through your hands. Now your life lay in the Mandalorians’s. You hated it.

You glared at him for what felt like hours. Neither of you was going to give in to sleep, too suspicious of the other to succumb to the vulnerability. The three moons travelled slowly overhead, animals scratching around the clearing of the forest none would dare to venture into the foreign light of the Mandalorian’s fire but you could feel a thousand eyes in the darkness watching you intently.

Suddenly he stood up. Suspicious you watched him walk the short distance to you. Without warning, he passed a silver packet of food to you and walked behind you. You looked dumbly at the packet and turned your head to see what he was doing. You had barely looked over your shoulder before his gloved hand came to the side of your face, pushing you away.

“Turn around and I’ll kill you,” Din warned you.

“Ok! Kriff, calm down I don’t want to look anyway,” You scoffed at him. Somehow, his insistence that you didn’t see his face only made the idea more enticing. You heard a scuff of metal and the sound of something heavy on the grass, his helmet was off.

You kept your head straight forward, moving only to look at what you were eating. It was very similar to eating next to a wild animal, any movement you made while he ate could be your last. You knew enough about Mandalorians to know it wasn’t him being territorial but to do with his ‘creed’. They could never remove their helmets, never show their faces to anyone except family. It didn’t seem like the Mandalorian behind you had any family, there was barely a caring bone in his body. Except he had saved your life, though that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else you thought.

Din wouldn’t usually risk eating like this with someone like you nearby. There was no privacy, no guarantee you wouldn’t turn and catch him but his hunger was overtaking his logic. It had been days since he’d eaten, he was the lowest on credits in his life the small amount he’d earn from this bounty was desperately needed. If he was going to be paid at all now.

He ate quickly, wolfing down the scraps he had found in your pack. It was bland and chalky but it was food, nutrients, and that was all that mattered. He had to survive until the next. Once he finished, he picked up his helmet and placed it back on his head. Safe inside his metal shell he stood up and walked to his previous spot on the other side of the fire.

He watched you while you ate. He took in the way your skin glowed in the firelight. Wisps of unruly hair caught the light giving you a halo over your head except there was nothing angelic about you. You knew murder and destruction just as well as he did. You’d killed many and cursed more to the haunting image of your destruction. You were one of a small few in the galaxy who had survived the Mandalorian.

There was something oddly satisfying at the fact you couldn’t get away now. You couldn’t do anything if he tried to kill you again now. All your power, all your strength, was in his hands. It was a dark feeling he wanted to avoid, he didn’t think about it too much. If he’d wanted to kill you he would have left you to die.

Once you finished your food you threw the packaging into the fire and settled back. You watched the Mandalorian pick through your pack, pulling out whatever he could find useful for the rest of the travel. You knew we wouldn't find much, the thing had only been packed for a two-day trip maximum. You ached from head to toe, tired and more hungry than the nutrients bar could stave off you longed for your bed. Soft and warm it was the only good thing in this place, the only thing that had kept you here for so long. Comfort was never something you had been given freely, you were going to hold onto this one for as long as you could.

Soon you couldn’t fight sleep any longer. You lay down next to the fire, watching the Mandalorian until you could no longer keep your eyes open.

—

The next day something had shifted in your dynamic. The fact he’d saved your life had changed things. You weren’t so angry at him. He was careful with you, helping you up from the ground and you didn’t miss the way his helmet stayed on you for longer than needed as you pulled your armour back on. He’d cleaned it too, wiping off the blood and dirt from the metal.

You walked mostly in silence, Din still in front of you. You may not hate him anymore but you didn’t entirely trust him yet. He was on neutral ground as far as you were concerned. He'd tried to kill you once, he’d saved you once, They cancelled each other out and now all was left as to gain any opinion either way about who this man was. Was he a killer or was he kind? His actions thus far, surprisingly, offered the latter. Despite that, your hand never left your blaster, though not drawn it was ready in its holster if he decided to turn on you.

Every time you hissed or groaned as you walked, he would stop, look at you and check you were okay before continuing. If it wasn’t for the cold nature of his helmet it would have been endearing.

You travelled together through forest and fields, over a small mountain and down a ravine. Your legs ached, back sore from carrying your pack but at least your stab wound had gone numb. Your pain receptors were so fried now your brain was trying to forget it all together so you could survive.

You flagged behind Mando, gritting your teeth and forcing yourself forward until you couldn’t take it anymore. You let out a small cry of defeat before calling for the Mandalorian to stop. You sat on a rock above a reed bed, leaning on it with one arm while the other pried your armour from your body. Din stopped walking as soon as he heard you.

“I need to rest for a bit,” You admitted, struggling with your straps. One-handed it was impossible to get them off but if you didn’t you couldn’t breathe. You pulled and tugged at the buckles until you were stopped by the Mandalorian’s gloved hand on yours.

“I’ll do it,” He said quietly. You moved your hand, turning a little to let him have better access to the buckles holding the metal to your body.

You didn’t say a word, knowing you couldn’t do it by yourself. His skilled fingers worked the buckles open and pulled the chest pieces away from your body. There was care in his touch, his fingers momentarily gracing over your exposed skin for a moment. The light touch sent shivers down your spine. You turned your head for fear of showing just how affected you were by his touch. You sighed in relief when the weight was gone and the strain on your muscles was decreased.

“Thank you,” You mumbled.

“We can set up camp here for the night,”

“It’s not even dark,” You protested, “Give me a few minutes we can keep walking. It’s not safe out in the open like this,”

“You’re in pain,”

“I’ll be in pain wherever we are,” You said, “There are caves just over there, it will be safer to stay there,”

“That’ll be two hours walk,”

“I can do it,”

“I’m tired too. We’re staying here,” He said, “You can bathe in the river, clean the wound again,”

“Mando-,” You protested.

He wasn’t listening anymore. He’d set down the weapons on his back and set to creating a fire. If it was going to be as cold as last night you were going to need one.

You were silently relieved. Your entire body was screaming for a break, the wound throbbing so much you could have thrown up. You needed to rest. You knew you weren’t far from the city now, it was on the other side of the pass, you could see ships land and take off in the distance, specks leaving white trails in the sky. You would be back by the next evening, you predicted. Only one day left free of consequences.

As the decision had been made to stay by the river for the night, you decided you could get out of your armour again. You sat up slowly, leaning to one side to avoid putting pressure on the wound on your side. You piled the pieces up next to the rock.

Din was still busy searching for suitable wood, a good distance away from you you decided it was safe to strip off and explore the water you could hear behind the reed bed. You pulled aside the plants, creating a path for yourself and revealing a beautiful stream. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the sunset colours above you.

You waded into the water, holding up your tunic so it didn’t get wet. The current wasn’t strong, stones were stable under your feet and you let yourself walk further into the river until it got to your hips. Creatures in the water scattered as your legs invaded their home. You pulled your tunic over your head, throwing the fabric back onto the riverbank, then untied the Mandalorians bandages leaving them with the tunic too. The cool water soothed your aching muscles, washing away the sweat and dry blood as it passed over your skin. You groaned at the heavenly feeling before dipping down under the surface, letting the world melt away in the stream.

Din returned to find you missing. He dropped the sticks he’d found and looked around for you. He hadn’t heard a struggle, he’d have seen someone if you’d been taken. He spotted your armour in a pile while you’d been lay, too neat to be stripped of you in a hurry you must have taken it off. None of his weapons missing either. Then he heard your voice from behind the tall reeds surrounding the lazy river, a pained groan. He was quick to action fearing you’d fallen and been hurt again. He barrelled through the reeds, nearly falling down the riverbank into the water until he saw you. Entirely naked, facing away from him, standing waist-deep in the cool water. Every scar, every bruise, every lump and bump was on view under the golden sun instantly transfixing Din.

He didn’t want to stare but he couldn’t bring his eyes away from the view. Drenched in golden light, your wet skin sparkled. His eyes fell slowly down your body, his own body was fighting between leaving you alone and joining you in the water. Your shadow cast on the opposite bank of reeds showed a broken image of everything you had hidden.

“Can you pass me my clothes when you’re done staring please Mando?” You spoke up suddenly, looking over your shoulder with a smirk on your lips. Din startled, snapping himself out of the trance he’d fallen into, nearly falling in the water. He coughed and spluttered, the sound coming out strangely through his vocoder, which made you laugh. He nodded, muttering something you couldn’t hear before disappearing back through the reeds to retrieve your clothes.

You were used to washing with no privacy. Being in the places you’d been, privacy was a luxury. You could ignore the lustful stares men gave but something about Din watching you set you on edge, it excited you. You couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell where he was looking but his vision bore like laser’s into your skin. You felt electric. He could have watched forever and you wouldn’t mind at all.

You dunked under the cold water, cleaning yourself and cooling off the heat of your body. You found your clothes laid out on the bank, where Din had been standing before. You smiled, dried off and dressed before re-emerging from the reeds.

The sun was going down now, barely a sliver above the horizon. Stars came out, colouring the night sky with constellations. The Mandalorian had a good fire going. A field rat hung over the flames cooking away.

“Sit close to the fire so you can dry off properly,” He said as you approached. You smiled and nodded, feeling brave enough to sit next to him rather than across as you had done the other night. He was opposed to your decision and didn’t move when you settled down next to him in the grass. “The wound looked like it's healing well,” He said after a moment of quiet.

“That’s all you were looking at?” You asked with a smirk.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” He apologised, a little ashamed at his voyeurism.

“I didn’t say I minded,” You smiled, sweet on the surface but the wicked fire in your eyes told him exactly what he wanted. He shivered under your gaze and moved quickly to get away from your scrutiny, turning his attention to stoking the fire again. You laughed to yourself and settled back onto your elbows to watch the stars.

This night was so different from the one before. You didn’t watch him so intently, trusting that he wouldn’t suddenly try to rob you or kill you. You were relaxed, as much as you could in the circumstances. Your earlier question of the character of the Mandalorian was slowly being answered. He was a mixture of good and kind, and cold and calculated. You couldn’t forget how viciously he had attacked you all those years ago, how bloody and raw those warriors had been left in the forest. But simultaneously you couldn’t forget his kindness in saving you, his care for your wellbeing as you walked today. How bashful he became when you confronted him about his peeping. You could hear the embarrassment in his voice. If he was a cold and heartless killer like you thought him to be, he would not take your teasing. He wouldn’t be embarrassed. No, this Mandalorian much like everyone else was complicated. Under that beskar somewhere lay a man, who unfortunately you were starting to like.

You couldn’t hate him. Not when he had found and cooked food for you to share. Din had pulled the field rat off the spit, opened it up and pulled out the cooked meat. He passed you half before collecting his own. You initially curled your lip at the charred remains in your lap but there was no other choice. It was that or starve.

Din opened his mouth to speak, to tell you to stay put as he sat behind you but was astounded at how quickly you’d turned your back on him giving him the privacy he needed. Metal hit the ground with a thud, you stayed perfectly still. Din noticed instantly, his chest becoming heavy as he saw your fear. You had been friendly all day, talking as if you were friends but the way you sat in front of him like caught prey reminded him that wasn’t the case.

You surprised him, it was rare for people to understand so quickly, let alone someone like you. Someone who hated him, had tried to kill him, usually, they’d mock him and refuse unless he threatened them, like he’d done to you last night. You didn’t say a word. You respected him.

So, he ate slower. Taking the time to enjoy his food, as much as you can enjoy slightly burnt field rat. He picked at the meat, pulling it apart with his fingers. His quiet groan of pleasure at the taste of his food made your ears prick and hair stand up on edge. You’d teased him for watching you in the river, but if he sat behind you and made sounds like that you were going to have to do something. Call it Stockholm syndrome, some kind of weird lapse of judgement due to the stress of your predicament but you found yourself liking the Mandalorian. He had tried to kill you before, he should terrify you, but the fact he was such a mystery, and a dangerous one at that, made him all the more enticing.

Din didn’t miss the way you’d pricked up at the noise he’d made. He didn’t mean to, it had just slipped from his lips. A new kind of hunger took over him as he finished his meal. He wanted you. The memory of you in the river cast over him. He wondered how soft your skin would feel, fresh from the mineral waters you’d bathed in. You smelt so fresh from where he was sitting, how much better would it be with his nose in your hair. He’d been hungry for days, but this hunger had gone unsolved for months, he could hardly remember the last time he’d held someone, kissed someone, fucked someone.

Without realising it Din had moved closer to you. His hands ghosted over your hair, wanting desperately to run his fingers through it. He wanted to touch you, to feel you. He leant over, just outside your peripheral vision and placed a kiss on your cheek. It was short, shorter as you startled at the sudden touch. Din retreated quickly, your sudden movement startling him too.

“What was that?” You asked sharply. Din frowned, instantly regretting his action. To his surprise, you didn’t make a move to look at him.

“Wh-what do you mean?” He stuttered, all confidence draining from his body.

“Kiss me properly if you’re going to kiss me,” you said confidently. A simple touch of his lips to your cheek had set you alight, you were startled but didn’t want him to stop.

Din grinned in the dark and surged forward to kiss you properly. The sharp scratch of stubble surprised you as he kissed you. His lips were soft as passion dripped into your mouth as your mouth opened to him in a gasp. The Mandalorian pulled you closer, turning you to face him properly. You hissed in pain when his hand brushed over your wound. He whispered an apology, moving down to your jaw. His nose brushed along your jaw taking in the clean and earthy scent of you.

His kiss travelled down your neck. The burn of his stumble on your soft skin made you sigh and open up to him more. Din could feel himself falling into you, your scent and taste, the noises that you were making just from his kisses were driving him insane. He could stop if he needed but he didn’t want to. He could trust you.

His hands stroked down your arms, taking your wrist into his grip. He continued his assault on your neck as he lifted it. He placed your hand over your eyes, holding your wrist tight to keep it in place. His warm hand over yours was oddly comforting.

“Move your hand and I stop, yes?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling you and sending a shiver up your spine, “I don’t want to kill you, but I will,”

“I understand,”

If there was any way you could have predicted the ending of your adventure with the Mandalorian there would be no way you could have predicted the events of the previous night.

He was good. Surprisingly good. You were a little shocked, having thought he was some celibate mercenary monk type character, but he knew what he was doing. If there weren’t stars above you, he’d made you see more. He was careful not to hurt you but didn’t hold out. Edges of your previous hatred for one another dipped in, adding so much to the event. You woke up sore in a completely different and entirely satisfying way.

You set out for the final stretch of the journey with a smile on your face. Your blaster was left alone in its holster and the Mandalorian walked beside you. You trusted him.

The final stretch was the most challenging. Through a rocky ravine, you had to climb over boulders and through tight passes. If you could have gone over you would, but the hundred-foot sheer cliff faces took that option away from you pretty fast. The Mandalorian walked slower to allow you to keep up, taking hold of your chest armour when the weight became too much to take anymore. You still couldn’t understand the reasoning behind his kindness but accepted it easily. He wouldn’t leave you more than ten foot behind, despite your insistence on leaving you to catch up on your own he refused and waited for you before enforcing a rest stop so you could catch your breath and continue. After hours of walking through the rocky pass, red stone finally gave way to green grass and blue sky once more.

You saw the city gates on the horizon and your heart began to ache. You had almost forgotten what you were walking back to. You had to tell the Master that his daughter was dead, that your entire team was burnt alive and you were the only survivor. You were dead for sure. Being the outsider anyway put you on rocky ground, this would be the final straw.

Din could sense your nervousness. Even if you didn’t express it verbally, he knew you were anxious to return. He thought you were brave for doing so, but you didn’t have a choice. If you ran you could never stay hidden from the Master. You were dead either way, at least if you brought yourself in you could argue your case.

Citizens lined the wall of the city, flags waving and cheering songs danced on the breeze as soon as you and the Mandalorian were spotted. You walked through the outlying villages with heads hung low as the people ran up to you expecting their princess in tow. When they saw the two of you alone their cries of joy turned to silence.

You reached the city gates and it seemed nobody had noticed, bells rang out and drums echoes from inside. Children waved from the wall, happy and excited to see you. The whispers started, turned into murmurs and soon the yells of praise and joy were spitting insults and exclamations of pain. People yelled out questions, what had happened to the princess, where was she, who’d killed the princess. Why hadn’t you saved her? Your heart sunk, you couldn’t lift your eyes from the ground as you and the Mandalorian were escorted to the palace.

Din always hated a failed mission, letting targets getaway in mistakes was what kept him up at night, but this was so much worse. He didn’t have any personal connection to the girl but the vitriol spat at you and him as you walked through was tough to take. He kept his head up, trying to think of a plan for what might happen next.

The news of your failure had spread fast, arriving at the Master’s feet before you did. You knelt at his throne, the Mandalorian standing beside you.

“What news do you bring?” The Master asked. He didn’t need your answer, he just wanted to watch you squirm.

“I am afraid we were unsuccessful Master. An accident occurred at the camp and we two are the only survivors of the event. There was no way of recovering your daughter, I apologise,” You said finally looking up at him. Your voice was calm, collected and confident. There was nothing you could do now, it didn’t matter whether you were visibly upset or not.

“Mandalorian? Do they speak the truth?”

“Yes. Charges were set in the mines beneath the location and set as soon as we arrived,” He elaborated.

“I appreciate the aide Mandalorian, however without a successful return of my daughter I cannot pay you,” The master said. Din nodded, having expected as much, “Guards arrest L/n,”

“I assure you we did everything we could to get your daughter, none of this was their fault,” Din insisted.

“You are dismissed, Mando,” The Master ordered. Din didn’t move, his blaster raised at the guards approaching, standing between you and them to protect you.

“Stop it,” You hissed at him, alarmed that he was putting his survival at risk for you.

“Put the blaster down, Mandalorian. You are far outnumbered here. I suggest you leave me while you still can unless you would like to join L/n in front of a firing squad,”

“It’s not worth it,” You whispered, as you pushed yourself to stand up. You gritted your teeth as pain shot through you. You both knew this was how it would end, there was no other way, “I accept my fate,” You spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear. Din didn’t accept it, he refused to. He had only just got you into his life, whatever the relationship was between you two he wasn’t going to let you die for something that wasn’t your fault.

You were surrounded inside the palace. Din’s defiance was only drawing more soldiers in. The chances of either you or Din coming out alive were drawing in. You knew the Mandalorian was worth more, something inside you told you he had a great destiny before him. While our crossed paths had arrived at a pleasant spot you would like to continue, if that was the final destination of your lives then you wouldn’t be the one pulling him to a halt with you.

You stepped into the Mandalorian’s vision, soldiers drawing closer, and you placed your hand over his blaster. You looked directly into his visor, staring directly into his eyes. You didn’t have to speak, he knew it was over. Slowly, Din lowered his weapon and stepped back. With his hands up he nodded to the Master who smiled smugly and gave you one last look. As soon as the Mandalorian walked away the guards were on you, hands roughly tugged behind your back and into harsh cuffs.

Din didn’t look back. Couldn’t. If he did he would do something he would regret. The Master’s voice echoed out of the Palace doors relaying your sentence. You were to be executed at sundown. Din pulled himself into a comfortable stoic calm, and indifference forced upon himself to allow him to carry on. He walked out of the city with nothing. Penniless, hungry and alone.

The Razor Crest provided some comfort as it always did. No matter what changed around his outside could always be corrected inside the silver confines of his ship. He had enough fuel to get him to the next populated planet, hopefully, he would find work there to get food. He settled into the cockpit, flicking through maps for a while to see where he could go. After a while, the exhaustion of not sleeping properly for three days caught up and Din fell asleep in the pilot seat.

“Oi! Mando! Open up!” Hard rock being thrown at the front of the Crest and the sound of your voice startled him awake. It was dark now, the moon high in the sky above him. Din’s heart sunk, it was just a dream. You were gone now.

He let himself wonder for a moment if he could have done more, knowing that probably wasn’t true. The galaxy had a way of making things work out the way they should no matter what he did. He settled back against his chair again, head resting on his chest when something slammed against the side of the ship and shouted for him again and he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

He did a double-take when he saw you at the door. Dishevelled and breathing heavily, you grinned up at him. “I thought you were dead,” He said.

“I will be if you don’t let me in in a minute,” You looked over your shoulder as speeder lights approached over the brim of the hill. Din had barely stepped aside before you barreled into the ship.

He stared at you in the low light of the hull. confused by the image you presented. Your armour was half missing, only your chest plates and one thigh plate remained and you were covered in blood. You were not only alive but you had fought well for it. Considering the state you had been in just hours before, barely able to stand up unaided, he was astonished.

“What? It’s not my blood if you’re worried about that,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand then wiping it on your pant leg. “Hurry up and get this ship in the sky. We need to go right now,”

A blaster shot ricochet off the side of the Crest, the sound of bikes coming closer, setting Din back into motion. He raced back up to the cockpit to set off. You followed quickly and watched as the Mandalorian set to getting the ship into the air while under attack. You jumped into the seat behind him, giddy with excitement as the weight of what you had just done inside the city walls had not yet settled in. You were high on adrenaline. The engines roared into life and suddenly the Mandalorian turned back to look at you.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” He said.

“I’m glad I’m not dead too,” you smiled, warmth spreading through your body at the sentiment, “now please can we go,” A shot hit the front window making you duck instinctively. “Go!”

happy may the fourth guys!! omg i missed writing din so much!!

tags: @beskar-falcon @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @this-cat-is-dea @dameronology @fandom-blackhole @artsymaddie

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countessofbiscuit · 4 years ago

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rising damp

Commander Fox Week - Day 7: Brothers | Hug Commander Fox & Commander Charm (OC) No Warnings Apply Teen, 1000 words @loving-fox-hours (also on ao3) A new garrison is being organized. What had been the responsibility of under-performers from the Coruscant Guard, seven-uppers, and units rotating in for refit is now the zero-fail mission of the Kamino Security Brigade. And Commander Fox gets to deliver the good news. . . .

Kamino could be many places. The snowbanks of Mygeeto. Pasaana, dry as bone. An earthenworks maze like Mimban. Its simulated environment capabilities were most impressive.

But it would never be Coruscant, and that was going to be a real blow to CC-4444.

“As you were,” Fox said, sitting down on his temporary desk to regard this young guardsman in his dress greys.

Poor bastard. He’d be in that drab color for the rest of his life.

A new unit was being organized. Its mission? Defend, safeguard, and monitor the cloning facilities of Kamino.

The Separatist attack two months ago had illuminated the need for a standing force on-planet. Profit margins on clones were too thin for a planetary shield. If anyone got past the fleet at the now-unsecret hyperspace exit—a valuable training ground in its own right—someone needed to have their boots on around here.

Major Melke, still on Kaminoan payroll, still as charming as an eel, was overseeing the project. It was mostly a copy-and-paste job from the shock, point-defense, and policing functions of the Guard.

And six months after leaving, Fox was back in Timira City, to be briefed on this new sister unit to the CG. His staff would retain all the datawork decisions and ultimate command; but for the first time in Guard history, opcon would be handed to a Jedi. One General Shaak Ti. She’d inherited a personal detail of Alpha ARCs, who’d inherited most of the training supervision from the Prime. They’d gotten wiped out. The only one left had requested a transfer and gotten it.

One less poor bastard.

Fox picked up a prepared datapad.

“Commander Cadet Charm,” he said, beginning to recite Charm’s record aloud. Like all clones, he’d been combat ready since seven standard; just hadn’t grown into the armor yet. Two years later, Charm had reached requisite dimensions and had performed to expected regimental command levels. Hadn’t come dead last—he was standing here—but these scores were landing places with Stone’s penal units nowadays.

“Passed ARF quals, got dumped from ARC, had your shock stripes to catch you, and you earned those with aplomb.” A pause for breath. “Survived the Opoko Tsunami of ‘76 and escorted the Prime Minister at—well, look at that, my passing-out parade. If memory serves, that was for saving a scientist?”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucky longneck. Fox set the ‘pad aside and crossed his arms. “Why do you think I asked you here, Charm?”

“I can’t begin to speculate, sir.”

Liar. But a humble one. Melke had cut a company from the upcoming command batch for a bonus exercise: opening Kamino’s locked doors and risk-assessing everything behind them. Charm had displayed the most initiative. And made the fewest derogatory comments, when others forgot Umbarans could hear your breath before you breathed it.

“The Guard doesn’t have the casualties to merit the pipeline of talent coming out of Timira,” Fox said, sweetening the pill. Dissembling a little himself. There’d always be room for excellence on Corrie; Fox would make room by shifting squibs back here. “You’ve been tabbed for command of the new Kamino Security unit.”

Charm’s face had remained at attention. It suddenly drooped well into unease. His gaze slid to the window. Then it slid back again, damp like the view. “I … I’d do dock security on Corrie, sir.”

They pumped Timira’s urban ops facilities with a potpourri of pollution and an unholy soundtrack of life on metal. Even the gradated air pressure was adjusted per objective. The marriage of the physical and simulated was almost seamless. Almost. Eventually there was always a door or a drain cover that led to nowhere. A blaster bolt that dissipated into thin air, lost to a backstop that mocked a clear horizon.

Rain, rain, always rain on the other side.

“Major Melke thinks you’re made for something better than checking manifests. This is a brigade-level command,” Fox reminded him.

“It’s Kamino, sir.”

Charm’s tone was plaintive, not shirty. But this wasn’t a negotiation.

“That’s right it’s fucking Kamino. Cradle of the Grand Army. Does that mean nothing to you? You’re a guardsman.” If Fox had a religion, that was its byword.

“I understand you, sir,” said Charm, above a sigh that discipline prohibited him from taking. “It would be an honor.”

To Watch and Ward. The Guard’s official motto. Unofficially, it was observe everything, admire nothing. Fox had found fulfilling that one a bit difficult. Senator Chuchi’s existence begged his admiration, as sweetly as she demanded his dances.

Charm would have to be consoled by something else.

“And an honor is all it ever will be,” Fox began, sternly. “You will be commandant of the fun police. You’ll process troopers that’d rather be shitcanned to a penal than come back here for special processing—it happens, though my staff does their best to make sure it doesn’t. You’ll get guardsmen rotating in because they fucked up, and they’re gonna be as happy as a bag of sick kittens about it. Brought a few platoons with me, in fact, for you to cut your perfect teeth on. The deadbeat SpecOps sergeants will try to pull all kinds of kark and you’ll have to tell them where their privilege ends. In terms of job satisfaction, I’d say commanding the KSB will be up there with rabid-nerf herding and wet-testing synthdroid cunt … and you’ll smell of tatsushi.”

Fox’s breath hadn’t been wasted. It’d blown the welling self-pity straight off Charm’s face. He just blinked and said drily, “Yes, sir.”

“So,” Fox said, willing his own blood pressure down, “on days like that, I’d see yourself over to the nearest nursery wing and pick up a little brother. One of the fresher ones. Round and dewy from the jar. And give him a hug. We don’t have any of them on Corrie.”

Fox held out his hand to the cadet. To another kid who was carrying a ticket in his chest that would never get validated. “Congratulations, Commander Charm.”

. . . . .

(ao3)

#commander fox #commander charm #coruscant guard #commanderfoxweek2021 #kamino security

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sealpointselkie · 4 years ago

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My OCs: Edit (Eddy) & Hope

I’ve had these OCs for a while now but I finally got up the courage to commission art for them (I find Hope especially hard to colour I’ve “ruined” several good (by the standards I’ve set for my own art) drawings trying to figure it out. 😫

Thank you so much to @popato-chisps for the excellent art and your patience for the details! Hope is out front with the mallet and Edit is in the back, probably begging her to stop! Find the rest of their story under the cut:

I’ve been a bit embarrassed by my OCs; I love them, but I worry that others will think they’re uninteresting or uninspired. My idea for the genesis of these characters was inspired by Underverse where, through the actions of ‘outcodes’ or ‘demigods’ timelines and whole AUs were destroyed. I also watched a bunch of alchemical symbolism vids and thought about the collective unconscious of these timelines and how traumatized and angry they’d be that these outside entities used their AU as a battlefield ending in their destruction. I would imagine after a battle like that the power of the outcodes would permeate the space that used to contain the AU, and what if the fragmented unconscious of the sentient beings of that AU coalesced with that power to birth new life? New life that could travel the multiverse and protect other AUs from their fate? And what about the power of the outcodes that helped birth them? What opposing forces would these new being have to fight within themselves? (This was also inspired by Paper Crane’s birth) This idea also let me make “ship kids” without their “parents” having to be in a sexual relationship, which, I admit, appeals to me. I see these “fusion kids” as being in conflict with the Star Sanses and the Nightmare Crew (along with any other deities/out codes) but guilty of manipulating timelines and AUs to suit themselves in the absence of such figures.

Edit came first: I liked the Cross x Ink ship (Crink) and I thought about what a merging of their powers would be like. I decided on the idea of “Cross-out” or editing, which (in my mind) kind of balanced the forces of creation and destruction between Ink and Cross. Edit, or Eddy, is similar to Ink in that he can’t produce emotions on his own, but unlike Ink gathering his ink from the Doodlesphere, Eddy gathers ink by being in close proximity to events with highly charged emotional energy. He has three kinds of ink: white creates emotion, black drains emotion and red heightens it. So if Eddy is feeling an emotion like rage or joy he can use his red ink to increase the intensity of that feeling, which also boosts his fighting power. However, there is a catch, Eddy is very susceptible to rage and can loose control of himself easily when indulging in that emotion. So, in a way, he’s inherited Cross’s anger issues.

When Eddy was “young” he was guilty of creating the events that allowed him to gather ink: his “drained” state, like Ink when he runs out of ink and emotions, interfered with any empathy he would have had for the people of the AU he was currently living in. The fragmented unconscious within him “told” him that he should feel, that he wasn’t whole, so he chased ink like an addict. It’s why he’s attached himself to Hope, since being around her passively generates ink for him. Since joining up with her he’s been able to have a steady supply of ink, and therefore emotion, which allows him to empathize with other people and makes him hesitate to create the same mayhem he did before when he was more often “drained”. He tries to mitigate Hope’s crazier and extreme plans to hurt or damage as few people as is necessary.

Now he enjoys helping creators and encouraging them to edit, prune or streamline their creations – there is such a thing as over designing! But he truly believes in their own vision and won’t force a creator to follow his suggestions

His magic takes form or white circles and red X’s, symbolizing ‘correct’ or ‘incorrect’ his red X’s can nullify attacks while his circles can enhance the power of his own or other’s attacks. I see him as a support character, standing in the back and buffing his allies while debuffing his enemies. In a pinch he can use his pen as a weapon. He also has access to a Sans skeleton’s typical attacks of bones and Gaster Blasters, shooting red energy.

And then there is Hope; Hope is a fusion of Dream and Error which fashioned her into an avatar of her namesake. Hope can create and destroy, lift you up and cast you down, and Hope lives in between these two extremes. Meeting in the middle is never an option. Hope, like most skeletons, considers herself physically gender neutral but the identity she constructed for herself revolves on being a “Magical Girl”, defender of hopes and dreams!, and therefore uses she/her pronouns.

Hope sees herself as a traveling Magical Girl who spreads hope where ever she travels and gives the people she touches the opportunity to achieve their dreams! In reality what happens is that Hope chooses someone with ambition, or an aspiration, and manipulates events to give that person to prove the “strength” of their dream and propel them forward. No matter the cost. This most often creates an extreme or dangerous event with permanent consequences moving onwards. If they “succeed” (in her mind) then she has created a world where their dreams coming true is more likely than before! If they “fail”, well, they just didn’t want it enough and she’ll abandon them immediately. It’s rare for her to give someone a “second chance”, or continue meddling in the life of someone who passes her “test”. She usually introduces herself as a traveling performer and Eddy as her bodyguard, she often performs on the street singing top 100 pop songs where the lighting effects and sound quality is oddly good for someone with her equipment… But hey, she’s a monster so “magic”.

When it comes to her magical equipment it comes from her necklace mimicking Dream’s bauble, which transforms into multiple forms:

1. Her mallet, her go to weapon: she has ridiculous strength, like a cartoon character

2. Her microphone with stand: part of her persona is an idol/pop star. She knows the top 100 by heart and is an excellent dancer, it also creates a spotlight on her, no matter the circumstances of lighting or atmosphere.

3. Her Wand: Portable microphone, can use it to enchant others.

Hope’s glitches tend to be diamond shaped and some can be soft, it gives her the appearance of shojo sparkles rather than Error’s computer-like graphic errors.

She has a limited ability to “enchant” or control others which she uses to create her scenarios: a villain to vanquish for someone who wants to be a hero, make a talent scout more likely to pay attention to a certain young dancer, etc.

Hope thinks Eddy’s become a stick-in-the-mud since he’s had enough ink, however, and she’d never admit this, she feels rather lonely wandering from AU to AU and Eddy is the closest thing to a real friend she’s ever had. He’s also someone she’d like to have watching her back when the time comes to teach those out-codes a painful lesson. She’s definitely a character that prefers to be on the front lines and the center of attention in a fight.

Her theme and Inspiration is: Oh No! by Marina and The Diamonds

(Sorry the editing is funky, I copied and pasted from email and the mobile app won’t let me correct any more than this.)

Ink by @/comyet

Error by @/loverofpiggies

Cross and Underverse by @/jakei95

Dream by @/jokublog

Paper Crane by @/little-noko

Art by @popato-chisps, commissioned by me, @sealpointselkie

Edit Sans and Hope by @sealpointselkie

#my ocs #my ocs art #commisssoned art #edit sans #hope #crink child #cross x ink fusion #error x dream fusion #insomnia child #cross-out sans

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paversandplatters · 4 years ago

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||𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚙|| (5/20)

Apocalypse! Au (TW! Minor gore and cussing)

Reader x multiple

Chapter 5: A Flock Found

They pack a wheel barrow to the brim with the newly acquired supplies they find not botheringing to leave behind much of anything, making sure to cop the twenty five gallon container of gasoline from the tool shed out back behind the building... Lord knows they'll need for the grand task ahead of them. By the time the light in the south western sky began to fade from a light gray to pink over the backwaters of the panhandle they're ready. They slip outside through the rectory's side door and creep single file along the edge of the property. Y/n takes the lead, periodically glancing over her shoulder for any sign of the herd that had crossed the highway or any sign of the group that occupied this space all too recently. She carries a glock with a full magazine just in case. The dusky air gets clammy and cool on the back of the stranger's neck as he follows them to the car. They climb in hurriedly, stowing their provisions in the rear cargo bay. Y/n kicks the engine on as the newcomer clambers into the passenger seat next to her- much to the dismay of the other two- unfolding an old dogeared map.

"They usually stick pretty close to the ocean." He says almost to himself, silently calculating the mileage between them and the gulf. "Probably should start down by Perry or Carwfordville." He senses movement ahead of them through the windshield and glances up in time to see a couple of jagged shadows emerging from the woods about a hundred yards away, drawn to the sound of their engine. Garbled growls can be heard over the drone of crickets. The trace smell of garbage on the breeze, the light and space of the outdoors is almost overwhelming to him. He feels like he's been asleep for a hundred years, locked away in that dank and dirty church- he starts to feel dizzy.

Y/n gooses the accelerator and the SUV lurches away. He sinks into his seat as they roar down the road, swerving to avoid the half dozen or so biters now skulking out of the woods blocking their path. They sideswipe one the creatures, ripping a chunk of its shoulder, splattering fresh gore across the glass of his side window.

"You get used to it." she states after he flinches in disgust. He just stares at the splatter, flecks of bone chips, and a long trail of black bile.

"I don't think anyone can get used to that ..." Nick mutters from the back seat.

Night falls and the darkness deepens behind the trees on either side of the road. Most of the streetlights in this part of the country have gone the same way as the internet or cable TV, so the road only gets darker and darker as they head south towards the steaming thickets and festering swamps of the coastal lowlands. The going is slow, most of the two lanes are crowded with rusted out wreckages ,the carcasses of cars and trucks so old now that the weeds and switchgrass have begun to grow up from their metal endoskeletons. The two young men in the rear breathe heavily, thickly, half asleep while Y/n drives and softly hums some forgotten tune. They had passed the jerky and water around a few minutes ago- their standard fare of supper- and now their bellies growl and their eyelids droop with exhaustion.

"You never gave your name..." His hushed voices rings out from the shotgun seat.

"Hadn't crossed my mind at the time, sorry about that... It's Y/n" She chuckles softly. "The one with the headband is Nick but goes by Sapnap, don't ask i don't know- the other one with the accent is George." he just simply hums in reply.

"What about you big guy? What do they call you?"

He takes a moment to regard the woman seated next to him; his head still trying to wrap itself around this complete stranger who's shown him nothing but kindness. On the one hand, she seems trustworthy enough, friendly, a good listener, courteous and capable of single handedly taking out an entire chapel full of reanimated corpses... On the other hand she seems like a walking time bomb. He'd seen her type before- they type that's too kind until something or someone breaks that trust. A hairline trigger. The sad fact is he doesn't have a large array of options. Staying in that hellhole of a church with those enslavers, listening to the groans of the dead, waiting for whatever those bastards would do next quickly loses its charm... Seeing the aftermath of her cleaning house with that knife had given him an odd charge- a cathartic release. He's also aware that he'd never be able to find the caravan on his own given the sorry state he's in. He really has no choice but to go along with her and her scruffy ass men and hope for the best.

"I don't have a name.. that is, one that I can remember.."

She desperately wants to pry, how could he not remember his own name? But the thousand yard stare and glassy gaze is enough to stop her from inquiring any further. "Well we've gotta call you something big guy." She's met with silence in response. "Alright, I guess Big Guy it is then." He offers only a meek hum in response. In an attempt to silence his own raging thoughts his eyes landed on the red bandanna tied to the rearview mirror for what was probably the hundredth time since he started on this way too long car ride.

"... What's that about?" He points to the red scarf.

"It belonged to a friend of mine a long while back, before Sapnap and George were a thing." Her hands tighten their hold on the wheel. "I was caught by 'traders' and he was stuck in the same hole as me... Couldn't have been any older than fourteen at the time. One night the compound was under attack, their front gate was breached- luckily we were kept at the very back end, so when the opportunity came we managed to escape our holding cell and I hoisted him over the wall. Told him to keep running, to not look back. He got away but I was caught again," She takes in a deep breath before resuming her story.

"I was quickly sold off to some asshole who had these two chained up for breaking into their stores... one thing led to another and we snuck out and snagged this ride... we've been moving around since." It was obvious by her tone there was a lot she was leaving out and probably for a good reason. Notably the two in the back seat were dead silent, so much so that it made the air feel heavy and dense enough to cut with a sharp enough knife. Suddenly he was wishing he hadn't bothered to ask in the first place

"That sign back there," He manages, desprate to break the heavy air "Said 'Cross city 12 miles" He glances up from the map in his lap, gazing out the side window at the stewing darkness of Dixie County Florida. "Got a feeling we're getting close."

The vast patchwork of wetlands passes in a blur on either side of them. The land oozing a low blanket of methane as gray as mold, clinging to the shadows of pine thickets and gullies like dirty lace. The air smells briny and rotten with dead fish. Every few minutes they pass the ruins of a small town or wreckage strewn trailer parks. No sign of survivors in these parts, though only the occasional silhouette of an upright corpse shambling by, it's eyes like twin yellow reflectors in the darkness.

"We can't just keep burning gas all night." Sapnap says from his place in the rear, his voice all cranked up with pain and panic "and we can't just go off of what you overheard those traders talking about- Much less go off of feelings.." Big guy just keeps a neural face.

"We're in the ballpark" He persists "Believe me they'll be hard to miss." Y/n grips the steering wheel, her jaw working overtime on a piece of gum, snapping and chewing complusively as she drives.

"How many vehicles do they have in this convoy?" George questions between wheezy breaths.

"No idea... but it's quite a few ."

"That's pretty general."

"They'll be easy to spot." He replies once more, gazing back out at the darkness. "Our best bet is to follow the coast, they like to keep close to the water.."

"Why's that?"

He shrugs. "According to those 'traders' they keep their eyes peeled for ships or any possible way they might get their asses the hell out of here. Most of the bigger boats around here have been destroyed by the hurricane that hit a couple years ago, so it's a long shot that they'll find anything..."

They're about to give up the search when they start to climb the gentle slope- at first so gradual it's almost unnoticeable - up the side of a vast malodorous landfill- the barren trash-strewn scrubland to their left reaches across miles of sandy berms, all the way down to the deserted ghostly boardwalks that wind their way along the beaches. The sky has begun to bruise pink with predawn light and Y/n has just started to say something when the Big Guy sees the first faint streaks of red dots in the distant haze.

"LOOK!" He points his large gnarled hand down at the far dunes of ashen white sand winding along the coast. The surface is so pocked and windswept it resembles the dark side of the moon.

"Where?" She cranes her neck, slowing the vehicle down to a crawl.

"I don't see anything."

"About Half a mile up there... Look at the tail lights!"

She takes a deep cleansing breath as she finally sees the caravan chugging along the coastal road in the predawn light, it looks like embers throwing up puffs of smoke in their wake.

"Holy shit, I see it." A big smile washes over her face, Glad she decided to follow through with this insane plan.

"What do you think of those boys?" The two young men in the rear lean forward, transfixed by the sight, each of them rapt and silent as they gaze at the convoy.

"What are you doing?! Blaster your horn at them," George stutters anxiously. "Don't let them get away !"

Y/n smiles to herself, in her former life she used to be fascinated by the wildlife shows, often catching them in the late night showings after work before she turning in for the night. She remembers one episode in particular, on the behavior of sheep vs the behavior of wolves. She remembers the flock mentality; the sheep moving almost as one, easily managed by a single sheepdog. She remembers the instinct of the Wolf, stealthy, patient as it and its pack creep up on the flock. She shoots a glance across the dark interior at the larger man sat next to her before turning her head to face the two sat behind them.

"I have a better idea."

Taglist

@the-wandering-pan-ace @hvrcruxes

#dsmp x reader #dream x y/n #dsmp tubbo #ranboo #sapnap x y/n #techno x reader #tommyinnit #dream smp x reader #dsmp #dsmp techno #georgenotfound #georgenotfound x y/n #philza x reader #the behavior of sheep

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cloaked-saurosuchus · 3 years ago

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Here, have a hypothetical battle scenario for Razzmatazz!Gaster bcs my brain went Off yesterday and I just couldn't help myself. oops

This is technically an expanded version of something I wrote down yesterday on my main but this. it's better bcs it's not midnight. Anyways:

The general premise is that in this hypothetical scenario, Gaster isn't voided by the time Frisk falls. The house in Snowdin is his, but his bros crash at it so often they might as well live there as well (technically they live in New Home, but.). He's retired as a Royal Scientist a few years back but still hangs around the labs a lot, to his brothers' dismay. Cause they as well work there and he is a Menace. Papyrus nor Sans are sentries, but Papyrus uses the forest as a testing grounds for his things so it. Doesn't really change much.

Actual battle scenarios:

Pacifist and low-kill neutral runs:

he can be found hanging around in Alphys' main lab, and makes a few jokes, but is not that talkative

UP UNTIL

you call Papyrus when he's in the room. Papyrus will comment on how he should be home instead, to which Gaster chimes in 'What, it's not like I missed anything interesting'. Papyrus lets the playdate thing slip and Gaster gets the Dumbest grin on his face

he then challenges you to a battle for 'breaking his little siblings heart, how could you'. The battle itself is a Joke as he only uses one (1) bone bullet per round, but he's grinning the entire time. To spare him, you have to play along with his theatrics up until Papyrus Breaks and hangs up in embarrassment.

Every time you talk to him after that, he doesn't say anything, but is grinning like an idiot.

when you exit out of this dialogue box his portrait changes to a sadder one just for a second

If you manage to whittle down his hp enough during the pacifist battle, he starts looking tired and comments that "It's just a joke kid, you don't have to take it so seriously", which eventually transforms into his smile dropping and CHECK text changing to * Is not having fun anymore. Let's just end this. You can either spare him at this moment or attack, which will catch him off guard and kill him. Papyrus' doesn't answer his phone anymore if you do.

Neutral runs with higher kill counts and/or Papyrus killed, he's nowhere to be seen. Ending Sans mentions he's "Like right after..." and trails off, not finishing that sentence.

No Mercy runs:

(this is a straight copy-paste from my midnight post)

He’d attack you just outside Snowdin Town, and wouldn’t be possible to spare (the only way to spare him is to never fight him at all). He’s Determined (and very much looks like it) to not let you through once the battle starts, and if you try to spare him, he just straight up kills you. He doesn’t talk at all, but looks to be pushing himself the entire time, huffing and wincing with every attack.

The battle lasts 4 rounds.

He sends out a mixture of bones and blasters, most white, some red. Red attacks knock you out into the menu, making dodging difficult, as you can only move between fixed positions on the buttons. They deal absolutely 0 damage, though.

First three rounds are fairly standard and fast-paced, but consistent. If you try to attack him, he blocks you by hitting your attack cursor with a red bone right before it connects, sending you into the menu and wasting your turn. He ignores anything else.

On the fourth round, he summons a large red blaster that has a 100% coverage, so he knocks you out into the menu, and then attempts to summon a similarly large standard blaster to finish you off, but the construct sputters and falls apart before it does anything.

You then get to watch a monster collapse, fall down and dust on his own from overexcertion, from the front row, joy!

You get no EXP as you never landed a hit.

#I remembered I have a writing blog and this could perhaps Go on it #undertale #gaster #wd gaster #razzmatazz series tag #this isn't canon to the series as I try to keep it canon-compliant in the 'Gasters not there by the game start' sense but. y'know. a fun sc #enario to rotate in my brain at 1 am

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angel-the-weirdo · 4 years ago

Text

Just woke up 2 hours ago and had an great idea of my own ink and error (oc?(I think thats what you call your own version of a already created character ))

Either way it’s half-ass cuz having an idea as soon as you wake up isn’t fully planned, but put i’ll it in an order where I remember it and understand my ridiculous thought process. (And definitely edit this post)

Lucy(Error)

- Description

Lucy looks like your every day error, but with a different personality, background story, and outfit! Lucy’s thoughts on creation and destruction are on a neutral scale, meaning they doesn’t find the action good nor bad. Lucy cares about balance, but won’t really voice their opinion unless asked! Instead of the blue streaks going down the face, it will be the opposite. (I have no way describe this ;-;)

-Standard attack is strings, bones, and blasters (will probably add more later)

-Background

An error forced out their AU and into the anti-void. In this universe they remember the friends they had to leave behind. A sad skeleton forced to live on in a different area and continue to watch their friends proceed their life’s without them. It left Lucy with trauma (and maybe abandonment issues) considering how long they had to stay in the anti-void. That is until they met their best friend Percy and started to recover slowly.

(I will add more like personality and what not later)

Percy(ink)

-Description

As the same for Lucy, it’s your every day looking ink except for a lot of changes. It’s the same kind of changes Lucy has, but instead of paint viles, they have pill bottles. It’s an unusual change from your every day Ink but Percy likes to be different from others! And how percy would say: “Swallowing pills is more reasonable and less disgusting than drinking paint!” And Lucy understands where Percy is coming from. Percy has seen the other versions of themselves with almost the same paint brushes, and has realize how much of a hassle their design of a paint brush is.

-Basically the standard attack of any other sans but they are black since Percy uses a paint brush to summon them. Small paintbrushes just in case the big one breaks. Decided to learn some self-defense in case the big and small paintbrushes are broken or currently unavailable.

-Background

Tbh I have nothing for Percy in terms of background, but they do help Lucy with their trauma. Thinking of writing how Percy met Lucy here.

As for right now I’m thinking of keeping the roles the same as for the original ink and error. Most likely won’t draw a design layout of what the characters look like.( who knows, maybe I will one day) Also this this is what the big paintbrush and the mini paintbrushes will look like:

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benscaligraphyset · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter three

(A/N: I hope you all enjoy this new update! Please let me know what you think in the replies/reblogs! Reblogs are always appreciated :) )

Warnings: none that I can think of

“What exactly did you feel?” Leia asked after you nearly broke down her door at the crack of dawn.

She wrapped a pink robe around herself and followed your pursuit around the house. You couldn’t stay still in the state that you were in, because staying still is doing nothing and doing nothing is not helping Ben.

“All I know is it was Ben, okay? And he felt so scared and lost and I don’t think he even meant to reach out to me. It was just a very strong feeling, but it was him, I know it,” you insisted as you went into their kitchenette, Leia trailing behind you.

“Y/N, wait,” Leia said and whirled around to face her.

You knew you must look crazy, eyes puffy, dark rimmed and wide with desperation, hair a giant tangle, and you were so jittery you couldn’t even stand in still for one minute. But, you finally had a real lead on Ben and refused to lose him again.

Leia sighed. “This could be a trap.”

“A trap by who?”

Leia hesitated but you didn’t have the patience to wait for an answer.

“And even if it is, Ben still needs our help.”

You helped yourself to a breakfast biscuit, the crumbly bread at least providing you with some energy, but you knew you would inevitably throw it up. You saw some ration packs in the cabinet and looked at Leia, the silent question evident on your face. She nodded and you shoved some into your bag.

“I know, all I’m saying is maybe we should think before we go in blasters blazing—“

“You can stay here and think, but I’m going after your son,” you snapped.

She recoiled away as if you had physically struck her and you instantly regretted what you had said. But, why did it seem that you were more interested in saving her son than she was? It was making you so angry.

“Look, I’m sorry I snapped, but the more time we waste—”

“Y/N—”

“What?”

“Han will be here soon, we can take the Falcon,” Leia said. You didn’t realize how jittery you finally stopped moving.

Grateful tears pricked your eyes and you threw your arms around her. You didn’t miss the fact that she said, “we” as opposed to “you”. You knew if there was even a chance that Ben was close to falling to the dark side, you would need the whole Solo family to help pull him back. He needed to know he was wanted and loved, especially by the people he felt sent him away.

“Thank you, Leia.”

“But, we need to have a plan,” she said. “And you need to tell me exactly what you felt.”

“Well, I had this dream, but I don’t know if—“

“Anything can be helpful,” Leia said, urging you to sit down at the kitchen table.

You sat down across from her. “It was mostly flashes. Ben was with these men in strange masks and they said they were going to Minemoon the next day. Then, it shifted to what I guess was Minemoon and a couple of my classmates were there...I forgot they were off world.”

“They were off world the night the temple was attacked?” Leia asked and you nodded.

“I completely forgot until now,” you mused. Three classmates were off world and only two were in your vision, but you tried not to think about what that could suggest.

“Anyway,” you continued before Leia could ask anymore questions, “they were fighting the masked guys, but I don’t think Ben was sure of who’s side to fight on—but I watched Tai die with Ben just standing there…I couldn’t tell what he was feeling.”

You broke off to wipe a stray tear. Tai was always kind to you and he helped you to center yourself many times when your emotions got too overwhelming. You were grateful to him that he didn’t treat Ben like he was a ticking time bomb, and instead a human being who was suffering. Tai is the last classmate Ben would ever harm. You don’t think he would be capable of harming even Voe, who was always horrible to everyone.

“Then what happened?” Leia pressed gently.

“And then Voe was dead...and Ben was walking away. Then, I woke up and I could finally feel Ben again! But, the connection was full of fear and pain. I’ve never felt it so dark before,” you said, lip trembling. “And then...and then he just shut me out again.”

Leia sighed and reached forward, grabbing your hands.

“You know Ben has always struggled with the darkness inside of him—“

“No,” you cut her off before she could finish her thought.

You refused to believe he would fall to the dark side and yeah, maybe that meant you were in denial in which case, fine, you were in denial, but you knew the man you fell in love with. Of course you felt the darkness raging a war inside of him, it’d be hard to miss, but you also felt so much light inside of him, so much goodness.

“There’s good inside of him.” You didn’t know who you were trying to convince, you or Leia.

“I know,” Leia agreed. She didn’t say anything more, obviously realizing the conversation would go no where.

You weren’t able to say anything before you heard a key being shoved into the lock on the front door. A few seconds later, Han came through the door.

“Y/N, Leia! I didn’t expect either of you to be up this early,” Han greeted you gruffly. Old isn’t the word you would use to describe Han, and you know he’d ring anyone’s neck who said otherwise, but he was definitely older. His hair and beard were almost completely grey and wrinkles were starting to appear around his eyes and on his cheeks, but the one thing that hadn’t changed was that permanent cocky smirk he wore.

You and Leia exchanged a glance, wondering who should tell him.

“Y/N thinks she has a lead on Ben,” Leia ended up saying. Han’s smirk fell and he looked between the two of you as if you both had two heads.

“Are you kidding? What are we just sitting around for? Let’s go!” Han said, turning to the side to yell, “Hey Chewie, stop unloading we’re about to take off again!”

“Han—“

“We’re going to get Ben!” Han shouted back in response to Chewbacca’s grumble and you heard a distant triumphant roar.

“Han, we need a plan before we go,” Leia said, sounding annoyed already.

“We have a plan, getting our son back.”

You grinned at him, taking this as your cue to stand and join him in the doorway. Leia sighed harshly and looked down at the table in exasperation. She had always said whenever you and Han were together it was like there were two of you and you could practically hear her saying it now.

“We can’t just go in without knowing what we’re walking into! Y/N only has a vague idea of where he’ll be—“

“He’s going to be at Minemoon tomorrow I know it,” you insisted, locking your pleading eyes with her. “Leia, please, we’ll make a plan on the way, but we need to go get Ben.”

Leia looked from you to Han and then back to you and sighed.

“Well, I’m obviously outnumbered, so I guess I’ll get my things,” Leia grumbled and shuffled back into her room.

You turned to Han, grin returning and he wrapped an arm around you.

“C’mere kid,” he said and pulled you in for a tight hug. You relaxed into it and hugged him back, breathing in his scent.

“I’ve missed you so much,” you nearly sobbed into his chest and you felt him rub your back soothingly.

“I’ve missed you too, kid.”

Han pulled back and gave you a once over.

“Are you wearing my shirt?” he asked, just now realizing.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” you said, looking down with a chuckle. “Leia let me wear it to sleep.”

Han glanced back at the shirt and huffed. He didn’t say it, but you could feel adoration coming off of him.

“Well, go put on some real clothes so we can go rescue my son.”

Han hung back while you went to the Falcon, no doubt in need to speak with Leia privately.

You’d borrowed some robes from Leia and they made you shift uncomfortably with every step. You’d been wearing the same standard robes for months while training with Master Luke and it’s not that Leia’s robes weren’t nice, it’s just that they just felt off. At least there was a belt for you to put your saber.

You sighed as you made your way up the ramp, pulling at the pants that were squeezing your thighs. You weren’t prepared for the surge of memories that appeared when you entered the curved tunnels of the Falcon’s walkway. You hadn’t been here in years.

Last time you were on here, Han was teaching Ben to fly her.

“No, Ben you’ve gotta—“

“I’ve got it, dad!”

“No, you don’t because—“

The two men cut off as the ship began to shake violently and Ben’s eyes looked around in panic.

“Move over,” Han had snapped gruffly, leaning over Ben to flip some switches, bringing the ship back to a steady cruise. He turned back to Ben in irritation and the younger boy had shrunk under his gaze.

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you at the sight of both of their faces. Han turned his stern face onto you now and your smile instantly fell. You cleared your throat, trying to play it off and your eyes flickered to Ben who just smirked at you in response. When Han has first scolded him, you could feel his embarrassment and shame rolling off his shoulders, but at the reminder of your presence he relaxed and you could feel him reaching out to you. You gladly reached back, sending feelings of encouragement his way.

“If you two are done Jedi flirting,” Han said and your cheeks grew hot. Han didn’t know much about the Force, but he had come to recognize when you and Ben were communicating through it. You instantly felt Ben retreat from you and watched the tips of his ears turn pink.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a mighty roar and you turned to see a wall of fur.

“Chewie!” you greeted in excitement and he didn’t hesitate to wrap you in a bone crushing hug, lifting you in the air.

“I missed you too, buddy,” you choked out and Chewie, hearing your strain, reduced the pressure on your ribs and set you down. He apologized and laid a large hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you said with a chuckle, placing your much smaller hand over his.

He asked you what the plan was.

“We’re going to get Ben on Minemoon, a moon off of Mimban.”

He asked you what he was doing there, but before you could answer, Han’s voice rang out.

“We never should’ve sent him away,” Han grumbled, stomping his way up the ramp with Leia in tow.

“Who was going to train him then, hm? You?” Leia asked.

“Did you ever think to ask him what he wanted? Maybe he didn’t want to be a Jedi!” Han rounded on Leia.

Chewie wailed loudly, objecting to their arguing.

“Stay out of it!” They both screamed in union and Chewie grumbled in annoyance.

“Did he not want to be a Jedi, Han? Or did you not want him to?”

Chewie gave a low whine and looked to you desperately.

“Guys—“

“We never should’ve trust Luke with him, that little—“

“Han!” you shouted and he whirled around to face you, face angry until he realized it was you, then it seemed to soften. “Can I talk to you? Privately?”

Now seemed as good a time as ever to have this talk, you thought, and at least it was a good reason to get them to stop fighting. Han sighed and turned back to Leia.

“This isn’t over,” he said.

“It never is,” she mumbled before making her way to the cockpit.

You started walking towards the crew quarters, angry steps behind you letting you know he was trailing behind. He looked at you expectantly when you closed the door behind him.

“What’s up, kid?” Han asked. He sounded exhausted already and you briefly wondered if he had gotten any sleep since the news either.

“I, uh, there’s something I need to tell you...”

“Well, come on, then, spit it out.”

You’d be offended by his words if you didn’t already know this was Han’s way of being encouraging.

“I’m—I’m pregnant,” you said, bringing your hand down to cup your abdomen. You watched as Han’s lip twitched into a surprised smile.

“That’s great news!” he exclaimed until he noticed you weren’t joining him in his joy. “Or not?”

“It’s, uh, it is good news. It’s just...it’s Ben’s,” you admitted softly. Han’s smile faltered and his face showed an emotion you couldn’t place; you don’t think he understood what he was feeling either.

Every second he was silent felt like an eternity to you and you were losing your mind at not knowing what was going on inside of his head.

“I’m gonna be a granddaddy?” he asked quietly after a minute, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, you are.”

He instantly wrapped you in his arms and you happily returned the hug. You could finally feel all the emotions coming off him in hot waves. Disbelief, fear, happiness; all those emotions were swirling around in his head, fighting for dominance. Han pulled back after a minute and met his eyes with yours, staring at you intently.

“We’re going to find him, okay?”

You smiled and a tear escaped your eye, falling down your cheek, and Han reached forward to wipe it away. You leaned into his warm, calloused hand and he gently stroked your cheek with nothing but love in his eyes. Those were eyes that told you that you would never going to truly be alone.

Ben must’ve gotten those from his father, you realized.

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I was wondering why Leia was asking me to pick up those hormone pills. Pregnant neighbor, my ass!”

“Speaking of Leia, lay off her will you? She’s just worried about him too,” you said, voice stern. Han nodded and let his shoulders sag in defeat.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he agreed. “I hate it when you women are right.”

You giggled. “Unfortunately for you, that’s pretty much always.”

Han rolled his eyes but still wore a giddy grin from the news. At first glance, Han doesn’t seem like a sentimental man, but when you truly know him and learn his mannerisms, (Han-isms as you and Leia liked to call them) you’d come to understand what a loving man he truly is. He rumpled your hair on his way out and you heard the hiss of the door opening.

“Chewie! I’m gonna be a granddaddy!” he instantly shouted, the words echoing throughout the whole ship. You heard a roar of excitement and heavy footsteps coming your way.

You snorted. You should’ve seen that coming.

After vomiting very lady-like into a waste bin in the crews quarters with Chewie holding your hair back, you pulled yourself together in the refresher and went to rejoin the others. You were glad Han and Chewie were already privy to your little secret as it would be hard to explain the constant vomiting spells otherwise.

On your way to the cockpit however you were caught off guard by the resurgence of your and Ben’s connection.

Y/N... you heard him as clearly as if he was right next to you.

“Ben?” you asked, frantically looking around to no avail. He wasn't here.

And then, as quickly as he let in you, he shut you out again, leaving you with a hole in your chest. You wiped away a tear that had managed to escape for eye and you pulled yourself together. You needed to focus.

Han and Leia appeared to have made up if her sitting in his lap was any indication. Maybe the prospect of them both being future grandparents brought them together and made them realize how petty their feud really was. You smiled when he placed a silent kiss into her braided hair before he heard you come in.

He must’ve seen you out of his peripherals because a second later his head turned to you and he rolled his eyes at your triumphant smile. Leia turned to you and gave you a grateful smile.

“So, where is it we’re going again?” Han asked, tapping Leia’s thigh as an indication for her to get up. She complied and settled for standing next to him, a steady hand resting on his shoulder.

“Minemoon,” you repeated for what felt like the hundredth time today. “It orbits Mimban in the Circarpous System.”

Han tapped coordinates into the system, beeps sounding at each press. You flopped down in the chair behind him and closed your eyes, letting out an involuntary sigh. You still hadn’t slept well in four days now and that made the daily pregnancy fatigue even worse. Your head was pounding and you felt gross and clammy from recently throwing up.

“Why don’t you rest, Y/N?” Leia suggested and you opened your eyes.

“I’ll rest when we have Ben back,” you said with a tone of finality. No one dared argue with you, even as the bags under your eyes had become dangerously dark.

Even though you had assumed a position of stubborn consciousness, arms tightly crossed around your chest, you barley remember the Falcon groaning into hyperdrive as you finally lost consciousness just after that. You fell asleep to the feeling of Ben’s steady Force signature and the dream of him coming back to you.

(A/N: Again, I so hope you guys enjoyed this update and that it was worth the wait! Let me know what you thought!)

Taglist (ask to be added):

@chewymoustachio @keverdeen395 @obsessionprofessional @promiscuoussatan @annepamgkrth @angelicwolf98 @allmyawesomeness @jaydaduckyy @starfishfaerie @oh-mymendes @dark-night-sky-99 @starktonyx @bensoloslover @kylosbeanswolo @oopsiedoopsie23 @moonprincess003 @starktonyx @heda-mikaelson

#ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #ben solo imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #Kylo Ren imagine #ben solo fanfic #ben solo fanfiction #Kylo Ren fanfic #Kylo Ren fanfiction #Leia Organa #Han Solo #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #Star Wars fanfic #star wars reader insert #kylo ren reader insert #ben solo reader insert

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sleepyfan-blog · 6 years ago

Note

Jajshhahahah okay so- could you possibly write the bad idea we discussed with Venus getting injured in combat? ||wo

warnings: Blood, violence, cursing, minor character death

word count: 3,429

Saturn is Cap’s dreammare kid. And Venus is Izzy’s.

Summary: Venus gets injured in combat

“Dad, please? I am a capable and deadly fighter! I haven’t hesitated when taking the necessary kill since my fifth one, which was many years ago! I was the one who gathered all of the data on the AU it’s at the others are about to invade. I know the Royal Guards tactics best, I figured out which psychological buttons to push in order to make the head of the Guard go into a mindless rage so that she can’t think tactically… And it’s not as if I want to solo this AU, I just want to help the others conquer this timeline for you… Dad, please?” Venus begged, a stubbornly determined expression on their face. They weren’t going to be left behind this time when it came down to the real fighting. “And you even said that you probably weren’t going to even fight in this neutral timeline due to the human slaughtering half of the monsters in the underground years ago in that timeline and most of the rest with a significant loss of Hope, which means that their magic will be weakened and their HP lower than standard…”

Nightmare sighed a little bit at that, trying to determine what was the best option. Venus had been pushing for this after they had sparred and beaten each of his lieutenants individually in practice matches that both opponents had been taking seriously. But he… Really didn’t want to risk his child’s life like that, grown adult though they were. But all the evidence pointed to a relatively easy capture Don’t underestimate your opponents. Fear and desperation can be a source of strength as well as a distraction. I want you to be with at least two of my lieutenants at all times during the entire time you are there, including during any lulls in fighting or after the initial surrender as it could be a trap, as it has been in the past. Do you understand this, Venus?”

Venus huffed a little bit and folded their arms across their chest, a mutinous expression appearing on their face… BUt they could sense their father’s worry and concern over their wellbeing and with a sigh, relented.. The only times that they had fought against other beings, they had been at Nightmare’s side the entire time, so this was actually showing more trust and faith in their abilities. “I promise to abide by the rules you give me, dad. I’ll be with at least two of the others the whole time I’m gone…” They moved closer to their dad and hugged him tightly for a moment, grateful for the chance to prove themself.

“Thank you, Venus. I know that you are strong, but I just… I can’t… I can’t lose you, my precious little one.” Nightmare murmured softly, hugging them back just as tightly, tucking them under his chin and humming softly, reminded of times long past when he’d held both Venus and Saturn close with Dream shivering and hiding behind him, or desperately clinging to the three of them, trying to whisper reassurances. None of the three of them were the least bit fond of storms - and particularly thunder and lightning.

“You won’t, Dad.” Venus promised, hugging their dad back more, their words a little bit muffled by the fact that they were kind of hiding their face into his chest. It was nice to be held like this. But it wasn’t professional and they knew that The Bad Sanses as they were apparently called would be coming to the throne room soon to get the debrief about the mission that the five of them were about to go on. They were pretty sure that either Hatchet or Killer were going to be the ones leading the team - which suited them just fine - they didn’t have experience leading a group of people on a strike mission after all.

“I hope so.” Nightmare whispered, pressing a paternal kiss to the top of their skull, only letting them go as soon as they both sensed the approach of the rest of the team.

All three of Venus’s odd pseudo uncles as well as their honorary big brother had taken their safety very seriously throughout the mission so far. It was a bit frustrating to have been stuck in the dead center of the group - with Cross (who was the fastest of the five of them) on their right, and all of them having summoned blasters at the ready to shoot anything foolish enough to get within twenty feet of them… But they had been able to actually fight, rather than just sneak around and get information on an AU that their dad wanted to take over, which was an exciting change of pace. They used their negative powers to weaken the resolve of the monsters the group faced, which probably helped to shorten the battles.

What was left of the royal guard had crumbled and broken before the five of them, and Venus sent a small smile Cross’s way, knowing that all they had to do was to get to the castle and find the cowering and snivelling monarch to beg for their life, and the will of their people would be broken.

But as they marched towards the castle, all hell broke loose. The Sans of the AU - who hadn’t been seen up until now - teleported in out of nowhere, three alternate Sanses at his side - A Swapfell, a FellSwap (or was that the other way around? Venus couldn’t quite keep the two verses straight in their mind) and a Horrorfell. Their Papyri flying in from behind the group. A soft gasp left their lips - nothing that shown that this Sans had contact with the wider multiverse. Shit.

Cross was the first to respond, summoning dozens of DT blades and flinging them at the airborne Papyri - causing the four of them to scatter and break ranks “Fuck. This just got harder. Stay sharp, Ven.” He muttered quietly, shaking them out of their shock.

Killer cackled wildly, brandishing his knives and charging the nearest Sans, summoning a field of bones and launching them - white and blue - at the Sanses.

Dust was right behind Killer, blasters whining and shooting out towards the trio of Sanses in the same moment, a feral glee in his emotional aura - even as one of the other Sanses countered his blaster attack with blasters of their own.

Hatchet was using bones and blasters to try to help keep the Papyri from regrouping, a concentrated frown on his face as he started to attack.

Venus noticed that both Cross and Hatchet seemed to be having a bit of difficulty actually hitting the Papyri - perhaps because they so closely resembled their beloved siblings (dead brother, in the case of poor Cross, who had lost so much to Ink’s machinations. Not that Papa knew that). They flew towards the Papyri, asking “ why do you come to defend the world that is not your own? To do so risks interference from people who are much more powerful than you can fathom. Surrender and leave this place and perhaps nightmare will spare your world.” they imbued their words with the power of their magic, causing the swapfell and fellswap Papyri to stumble for a moment and stop.

The Horrorfell Papyrus on the other hand, snarled lowly and hissed “Let your lord and master come to my world. It’s not as if he can make things worse than they already are.”

“You have no idea what nightmare is capable of. Not truly.” Venus responded coolly. Their eye lights shine brightly with cyan magic as they summon a bow (it looks strikingly similar to Dream’s, except for the fact that the wood is of a darker color and the runes that have been carved on it are of a cyan hue - specifically a shade strikingly similar to Nightmare’s own magic). They create a magical arrow and began shooting at the Papyri, moving out of the way of the bones that were hurled in their direction - no matter if they were thrown at them from the Papyri in front of them, or the Sanses behind them. The arrows strike true, and hit the Horrorfell Papyrus directly through the soul “Have a taste of what Negativity is truly like.” They hiss as the Papyrus howls in agony, collapsing in on himself and breaking down into sobbing hysterics.

Monsters struck by their arrows would relive some of their worst memories - and Venus kept up a volley of arrow at the remaining Papyri - the three of them cursing and desperately tumbling and stumbling out of the way of their arrows, so frantic and afraid of their magic that they were caught by Cross’s and Hatchet’s Blasters, screams of pain leaving them briefly as they crumbled into dust.

“NO! PAPYRUS!” Their Sanses screamed in unison, fury and heartbreak in their emotional auras. They attacked with a renewed vigor.

Venus swerved to avoid the blasters and bones in the air - nearly getting hit with a blue bone attack which would have grounded them. The Sanses’ teleportation abilities were incredibly annoying to deal with - as they were much more adept at avoiding their arrows.

However, the defensive Sanses were slowly losing ground and stamina - a fact that they seemed to be grimly aware of. The Horrorfell Sans called out on his turn, panting heavily “Why don’t… We just… Take a little break, eh? That way we can all…Rest up and… Continue fighting…”

“Surrender or die.” Killer giggled, the wide smirk on his face broadening still further, twirling his knives in his hands “I can do this for days without needing a break.”

Venus took aim at the exhausted and trembling Sans, certain that they could hit him this time, when a sudden and intense pain ripped through their body, shattering their concentration as they fell to the ground, screaming in agony… Their wings were caught on something, and they realized that two very long bones had pierced through them, causing the emotive spirit to bleed magic “A-Ahhh!” The attack had come from behind, but who…? “A-Aaaah!” Their magic pulsed around them at the intensity of the pain they were in.

The Horrorfell Papyrus hissed “I… Will not… Let you kill… My brother! Pretty little birdie… You will make a tasty stew for us… Yes… Yes you will.” He staggered towards them “I wonder… What shape is your soul, little bird? So… So strange you are…”

Cross and Hatchet cursed, teleporting between Venus and the Papyrus, a second too slow as the Horrorfell native managed to wrap his magic around their soul, forcing their body to jerk upwards, further damaging their wings, as their black-apple soul became clearly visible. “No, no no no no!” Cross swore, launching dozens of daggers and bones at the Papyrus “Let them go, you twisted fucker!”

“What… The fuck… Are you?” The defending Sanses swore, having never seen a being with such a soul before. One of them launched a bone straight for Venus’ soul.

Their eye lights shrunk to pinpricks and they thrashed uselessly in the magical grip of the Papyrus, unable to work up the concentration to summon their bow again to try to shoot away the attack. A terrified scream of “D-Dad, H-Help! Please!” was wrenched from their throat, their eye lights going out, praying to anything that might listen that they survived a direct attack to their soul.

But the blow never came. Venus tentatively summoned their eye lights, realizing that the negativity in the area had risen dramatically. Their dad was now holding them protectively in a couple of his tentacles, the rest lashing out at the Papyrus who was holding their soul hostage, snapping the skeleton in half and shredding his soul so that he no longer had a hold on Venus’ soul. The other had also blocked the attack to their soul by the Sans.

NIghtmare was livid “You dare harm my precious child… I will make your lives a miserable, living hell and you will beg for death long before I grant you that mercy.” The other’s tentacles lashed out and slammed into the four Sanses, curling around them tightly enough to cause them pain and to threaten to chip away the few HP that each of them had “I will find your pathetic worlds, and I will -”

Venus coughed a little, their wings hurting very badly, and they could feel themselves hemorrhaging the magical blood that flowed through them “Dad… I need… I need help… Ngh…” They were trembling and trying so desperately not to cry in the pain, and in relief that their dad had come to save them. Of course he did.

That snapped Nightmare out of his pitch black fury, worry and fear running through him as he Checked them, and he cursed lowly “Eat as much as you can, but I will need to find a healer for your wings… Stay awake at all costs, do you understand me, Venus?”

“Y-Yes dad… Ngh.. The darkness is so nice though… “ Venus mumbled. They knew that they wouldn’t be in any pain if they fell asleep - but the fear and worry in their dad’s face kept them awake. “I hurt so much, dada…” They hadn’t called him that since they were really little, but somehow, they weren’t embarrased.

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, as their dad was even more terrified and upset than before. The mortals in Nightmare’s grasp dusted and he very gently set them in Cross’s protective grip “Feed them as much food as is in the castle. I will procure a healer who can fix the damage in full.” The lord of darkness opened a portal that led directly home.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” Cross whispered, guilt and pain in his aura and voice as he teleported through the portal, grateful that Nightmare had opened it directly into the kitchen. Dust, Killer and Hatchet were directly behind him, shoving the food that they had in their inventories down Venus’s throat “I should have made sure that that HF Papyrus was actually dead… I didn’t see the fucker in the snow…”

“I didn’t realize he wasn’t fully dead, either, Cross.” Hatchet rumbled as he rushed over to the fridge, pulling out everything that was pre-made, shoving them into Dust and Killer’s impatient hands as they kept a steady stream of food coming to their badly injured kid. They loved Venus fiercely, and to have seen them strung up by their wings like that….

Those idiots’ deaths had been far too quick. But Venus’ life was more important than revenge.

“Let’s move Ven to their room. We’re out of food and they’ve stopped losing HP… Stars fuckin’ damn I wish that one of us had the ability to heal.” Killer cursed softly. The others nodded and they teleported Venus to their room, carefully laying them down so that none of their weight would be on their damaged wings.

There was only one being with the capability to heal who Nightmare would trust near one of his injured children, and he desperately needed to find the other before it was too late. Using their soul-bond, he tracked the other to an Outerswap. It was an irritatingly positive place, but his mate’s presence shone like a being amongst the never ending sea of mortal idiots. He instantly teleported over to where Dream was, using his magic to temporarily paralyze everyone else in the room in Fear and Despair that he had found them (some of Dream’s mortal allies were in the room - as was the soulless fuckface). “Come with me, now.” He pleaded, trembling as he reached out for Dream.

His mate took a couple of steps back, his eye lights wide with suspicion and surprise - but the other hadn’t instantly summoned his bow. A worried frown appeared on his face “Nightmare, wh-what-”

Right. Dream didn’t know yet “Venus is injured. Please. They… They were hemorrhaging so much magic and I… I can’t heal them…”

All suspicion and wariness vanished within his mate’s emotional aura “Where are they?” He snapped, teleporting over to the negative guardian and sending a pulse of love-affection-worry through the hand that had the other had touched him with.

“Home. I-I sent them home. They wanted to fight. Begged me too. I-I shouldn’t have let them, b-but…” Nightmare stuttered, feeling so weak and useless. An awful failure. How could he have given in.

“Shh… Our eldest is incredibly stubborn. Sat is at PP US 99814. I’ll go home to heal Ven.” Dream soothed, cutting him off before he could potentially self-destruct. With that the other opened a portal home and teleported through it. It closed before any of the mortals could think of unfreezing.

Nightmare was long gone before any of the mortals (or the soulless asshole) could move under their own power again. The lord of Negativity found his son and scooped him up, pulling him in close, murmuring that the other was “Safe now, my little starlight… It’s time to come home now…”

“I… D-Dad… H-how did you find me?” Saturn stuttered, his eye lights terrified and confused pinpricks.

“Your papa told me where to find you… We… W-We have to go home now. All of us. Venus is badly hurt.” Nightmare explained quietly, absently noted that he was still partially covered in the dust of the Sanses he had killed earlier, which would likely further distress his rather shy and sensitive younger child.

“V-Venus is… Is h-hurt? P-please take me h-home dad. I-I want to see them!” Saturn begged, tears streaming down his face as he hugged his dad back tightly, terrified and confused, though for different reasons now.

Dream was a barely-visible streak of gold and blue as he ran through the castle, teleporting directly to where he could sense the being of negativity as soon as his senses worked. He instantly summoned a bubble shield, forcing the mortals who had surrounded his precious older child away from them as he started to heal them, his hands a vibrant green color. Their voices an indignant, confused chorus that he ignored entire.

When their confused cries registered in his mind, Dream hissed at them “Of course I am helping my older child you blithering idiots. I am justifiably furious at Nightmare for what he’s done, but I’d never sacrifice either of our children in our fighting, and I know that he wouldn’t either. Why do you think he came to get me?”

“IF that’s true, then where the fuck is Nightmare?!” The monochromatic mortal growled, their heterochromatic eye lights flashing impudently at him.

“He went to get Saturn, our younger child. Sat will want to stay with their sibling as they recover from the mana loss.” Dream snapped. It was perfectly obvious to him “They’re coming this way, if you don’t believe me. They’re back in this timeline. Now shut up and stop trying to break through my shield so that I can focus on healing Venus.” It was so nice for them all to go blissfully silent. Venus had lost so much blood…

But their wounds closed, and Dream gave them as much energy as they were able to handle. He sat down on the bed and held his older child close to his chest, murmuring softly “You’re going to be okay… Papa’s here and Dad’s on his way with Sat…”

“P-Papa?” Venus asked quietly, their eye lights fuzzy “I… I hear your voice… H-how did you? How did you know I was hurt?”

“Your dad came and got me, sweetie. As soon as I heard you were hurt I came to help you. I’ll always come to help you, my little dove. No matter what you become. Your papa loves you so, so much.” Dream soothed, rocking Venus back and forth gently.

Venus cried quietly and clung as tightly as they could to their papa. Dad and Sat appeared seconds later. Saturn crawled onto the bed after he was put down by Dad, snuggling into Venus’s lap and crying (he was always felt so deeply, and was easily distressed when they got hurt). Dad’s tentacles wrapped around the three of them, and he held them all close and tightly. “Papa… Papa can I sleep now? I’m so tired…”

“I… Yes. You won’t… You’ll still be here when you wake up, now. You’ll need to eat a lot of food, okay?” Papa responded, his voice quivering a little, but full of love and care.

Venus nodded, mumbling an agreement as they drifted off to sleep.

#my writing #tw violence #tw blood #tw death #tw cursing #venus #saturn #nightmare #dream #horrortale!sans #killer!sans #Cross!sans #Dust!Sans #dreammare

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maugerana1982-blog · 6 years ago

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I had no idea what she meant. I showered daily, ironed my clothes, brushed and flossed, and kept my hair neatly styled and groomed. I said as much to her. If she's refusing to get a second opinion then tell her she needs to see a mental health professional to confirm that she has anxiety and develop a treatment plan. If it's bad enough she's passing out in a grocery line she can't ignore it. Either she has a severe anxiety disorder or she doesn't. Being a bootstrapped business is extremely difficult to expand the team just because we need to. But hopefully, we have more budget to allocate to hiring and paying salaries to our future team! For now, I and my business partner decided not to take any salaries for at least a year and every sale we make is invested back into developing our new products. I think everything is a learning experience and I glad I came across this post. What I hope goes away is this culture of automatically assuming that by not being relatively lightweight, you not attractive. I have no science to back this 포천출장마사지 up, but I really do believe this is a cultural thing and not a biological thing. I do think we are generally moving away from pressure to be with someone who meets the current standard of beauty. Stryfe is a "bare bones" blaster. No fancy features, no large, unique aesthetics, special functions, or anything at all, really. It a bottom dollar, generic looking blaster that lends itself amazingly well to being modded in an overwhelming variety of ways. February might be the best month of the year. Great choice. The challenge is that resorts and good fishing (or even available fishing, since many resorts ban it on their beach property) dont often go together. Phrenology is basically a kind of mysticism it predicated on the notion that wise men can draw out the mysteries of the natural world through inspection and secret knowledge. It kind of like reading tea leaves, or fortune telling based on palm lines. This may not jibe with your personal experience of religion, but lots of religious traditions do have mystical elements. Cut to now with about an extra 600lbs added, I've been averaging around 15 17mpg. I'm betting some of the mpg loss is from wind turbulence due to some of the mods. I don't care though, I barely put 2,000 miles on it a year because it's not a daily driver. And now daylight came, and the sun smote Sancho on the eyes with his beams. He awoke, roused himself up, shook himself and stretched his lazy limbs, and seeing the havoc the pigs had made with his stores he cursed the drove, and more besides. Then the pair resumed their journey, and as evening closed in they saw coming towards them some ten men on horseback and four or five on foot. What likely happened next was either the dude GTFO or ran straight to the bull, juked, and held by the bull ass until he could get out safely. You can time a gallop if there no gallop, the bull gonna give you the horn and not the tail, so the bull will spin and pivot to try to get in position to attack. Others could have ran in and played a little cross traffic to get the bull to run 포천출장마사지 left, then right, trying to chase multiple people, all unsuccessfully.. Whenever I see childhood flashbacks and there another child in that flashback with them, that when I start losing interest in the show.rdturbo 7 points submitted 2 months agoI think the mothers in encounter are different from the one in pretty Noona. She was batshit crazy in that.The mother of female lead is using her daughter to get her husband to become the president of the country while the mother in law is harassing her because she knows that her son is still in love with her so she wants his happiness. They both have a reason for what they are doing.

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gal-with-pastels · 7 years ago

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mirrored skele bros

-Mirrored sans - can be a nervous stuttering wreck at times either if he messes up or will sometimes be extremely shy if he meets someone new for the first time often trying to get attention off of himself “ Don’t mind me.” he usually will say.

* Once you get to know him , he is actually a very caring , and upbeat monster. As soon as he met frisk he knew he couldn’t just leave them out in the cold , and no creature should suffer. He’s actually fascinated with machines as well as new things, and mechanical parts, He even has his own gear collection. he’s that one friend that believes your life is amazing meanwhile he’s living your Dream life..

* referred as Lithos or Mango by other sanses .

•Extreme pacifist for the most part , often avoiding conflict unless it is the final option. He however only has the standard blue attack’s and can only summon one gaster blaster in battle , He however makes up for this by either throwing gears and screws at your soul or using one of his inventions.

•He becomes a flustered mess if anyone praises his work , becoming a stuttering mess, he modified a car to be able to teleport at a certain speed. leading to his and his brothers discovery of the multiple timelines.

•he loves mayo as it goes with everything. French fries are also his life.

•has a outfit specifically for fixing machines which is a jumpsuit with overalls.

•overworks himself, missing sleep almost every night to finish his projects.

•cannot make jokes or understand puns . if he does make a joke it usually falls flat.

•is a very optimistic and tries to make the best out of everything, Goes into things without being aware of the consequences .

-Mirrored Papyrus-

•Tsundere to the max, as he can be harsh but with good intention.

•will fight anyone in order to protect the others around him . as he doesn’t pay notice to the damage that is done on his body.

•High defense , gaster blaster attacks ,bone attacks, and hand to hand combat, durable to average attacks

•doesn’t boast about himself as it causes him the insecurity of bad people going after his brother.

•Referred as greene or Mint when interacting with other variants

•May seem like a brute but actually cares about others, bringing his bro to his bed if he passes out

* refers to sans as “lil brother .” and humans as “fleshies”

•Disliked Frisk at first , only taking them in due to his brother , But than grew attached to them .

•you will make this skeleton drop his brave facade if anyone praises his cooking

•over protective of his brother to the extent of taking blows for him in battle.

•is actually pretty chill with some anxiety with his brother’s safety , having a slight hot headed temperament , but tries to regain his composure

•believes he’s not that special , just your ordinary skeleton whose just living his life.

•Always on edge , prepared for anything that will come his way. and seeks out anything to give him an adrenaline rush , from horror movies to boxing matches.

•Has a cooking hobby but actually is an amazing cook , even has a apron that says “ Flaming hot” on it.

#mirroredtale #mirrored sans #mirrored papyrus

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omgkatsudonplease · 7 years ago

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one life stand by hot chip, victuuri

day 6 part 1 omgggg

Watching Yuuri suit up should not be nearly as bittersweet nor as arousing as it is, but Viktor feels that way anyway as he watches Yuuri array himself in a jumpsuit and oxygen pack for his visit to the Almavivo.

“We’ll have a line of communication with you right here,” says Emil, tapping a small wire thread on the fabric of the jumpsuit. “The bridge will see and hear everything and transmit instructions through the translator earpiece.”

Yuuri nods. He clicks the button on his pack to activate it, raising his thumb towards Emil as the oxygen bubble expands around him. But just before he steps towards the airlock doors, Viktor runs towards him and enfolds him in his arms.

“Take care of yourself,” he pleads.

Yuuri smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll be fine.”

Viktor takes his hands, kisses his fingertips to Yuuri’s gloved ones. He presses his forehead to the surface of Yuuri’s bubble, wishing he could go farther. Yuuri meets him halfway; the surface of the bubble the only barrier between them.

“I’ll get Yuri back safely,” Yuuri says, before pulling back to look at Emil. “Be prepared to build a boarding seal if I’m successful.”

Emil salutes him, and the airlock doors open. Yuuri steps through, pressing his hand against the glass. Viktor mirrors him, feeling a lump of worry congealing in his chest. Whether it’s his, or the rest of the crew’s, he’s not quite sure. Perhaps it’s both.

Then the external doors open, and Yuuri steps out of the airlock and towards the Almavivo.

Viktor heads back to the bridge, where the crew is watching the feed from Yuuri’s glasses. An access hatch opens for him on the side of the ship, and he clambers onboard with little trouble, his breathing nervous but steady over the feed.

“You can do it,” Phichit mutters. “Come on, come on…”

“You’re the negotiator?” a voice over the feed asks, clear even over the hissing static on the audio feed. Moments later a beautiful Nevan shows up on the screen, her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she presses the muzzle of her blaster against the temple of a scowling Prince Yuri. The blood in Viktor’s veins turn to ice. “Are you armed?”

Yuuri must have raised his hands to show he was not. Anya considers it, before jerking her head back towards something. Yuuri follows, his camera feed revealing the cockpit of the ship. Everything seems bathed in an eerie green light.

“Thank you for having me,” Yuuri offers as he nervously takes a seat in the chair. “I have an offer from Prince Viktor of the House of Nikiforov.”

Anya and Yuri sit. Yuuri looks down, clearly noting that Yuri’s hands are bound.

“What is he offering me?” Anya asks warily, crossing her legs. The feed bobs up to see her face, now more drawn and haggard by proximity.

“A pardon for the treason you committed in attempting to flee your Candidacy,” replies Yuuri. “However you will still face criminal charges for the attack at the Armistice Ball.”

“Criminal charges,” scoffs Anya, digging the blaster harder into Yuri’s skin. “Sounds more like the instant I give you the Prince, that Fleet will blast me into millions of pieces.”

“You know perfectly well they can’t do that without violating the terms of the Armistice itself,” replies Yuuri. “But you have no more fuel, no supplies to last you beyond a week. This ship is meant to get people from point A to point B, not outlast a Fleet on a little asteroid at the edge of a no-man’s land. If you refuse, we might leave – but the Fleet won’t. They will outrun you and outlast you.”

Anya purses her lips. “You’re trying to intimidate me.”

“I’m not here on behalf of the Fleet,” replies Yuuri, shrugging. The feed shifts a little, as he adjusts his glasses. “I’m here on behalf of a brother who wants his brother back.”

“And in exchange, will he give me my sister back?” retorts Anya. “Psi-dampening walls cannot block out the deepest familial bonds. I felt her, Terran. I felt her mind crumbling into dust miles away in my room. And you expect me to let their prince go so that he can return to life as normal? Continue to capture poor talented Nevan children to further the royal bloodline?”

“Prince Viktor feels as strongly about ending the Searching industry as you,” Yuuri says. “Which is why he is willing to give you the pardon. You would have the chance to go home for a while and visit your family before the trial starts.”

“There is no justice for Candidates who have been wronged as much as Natalya and I have,” Anya grinds out, her eyes flashing. “I would sooner –” she moves the blaster to point it at her own head, and Yuuri lurches forward.

“No!”

Anya laughs. Viktor feels a bone-chilling uneasiness slide into his gut.

Yuuri catches himself, taking a deep breath. “Is there anything we can do to ensure the safe return of Prince Yuri?” he asks quietly.

“Fuel,” replies Anya. “Supplies. That royal pardon – I would like to return, someday. But for now, I will not.”

Yuuri swallows. “They will hunt you down.”

Anger, grief, frustration. Viktor’s not sure if it’s his own, or if it’s someone else – The entire crew? The Fleet? Anya herself? He times his breaths to the sound of Yuuri’s vitals, his heartbeat ticking like a metronome to Viktor’s own wild thoughts.

“One Mandalan ship core replenishes itself in twenty-four standard hours,” says Anya. “It won’t take me far, but I can use it in combination with a compatible energy source. That Nevan command ship has some spare batteries.” She pauses, smiles. “One of those, some supplies, and the pardon, and you can have your prince back. I won’t harm him.”

There’s a crumpling sound. Viktor moves his hands back from the edge of the workstation to see that the metal has warped.

Yuuri is silent. What do I do? he seems to be asking. What do I say? Viktor looks on, seeing the fire burning in Anya’s eyes, and remembers the blue scarf blowing on the palace gates.

Calm. The universe holds its breath.

“Accept it,” Viktor says quietly, his voice choking in his throat. The feed tilts, as if confused. “She will answer for the attack another day. We will find her.”

“Will you?” Mila wonders. “The Searchers never found me.”

Phichit sighs. “She’s probably just trying to get the fuel to seek asylum in the Mandalan Empire, or on a distant Federation planet. You might be able to find her, but you might not be able to arrest her.”

“And she’d just get away.” Viktor sighs. “But this is the best option for getting Yura back. We have to take it.”

The feed moves, as if nodding. “All right,” Yuuri says onscreen. “We’ll take the deal.”

“Fuel and supplies and pardon first,” Anya instructs.

“Okay.” Yuuri extends a hand. Anya regards it distrustfully.

“No – what’s the Terran phrase – funny business?”

“Absolutely not,” replies Yuuri. “Emil, please make the seal.”

There’s a rumbling deep within the Firebird, as Emil extends a boarding seal between the entries of both ships. Viktor grabs a touchpad and scribbles out a note of pardon, affixes his signature and the royal seal.

“I’m sending this over to the Almavivo,” he instructs Sara, and flings the document over as soon as she opens the channel.

A small chime resounds on the ship, and then Anya smiles. “Thank you,” she says.

“I’ll issue a command to Medvedev to send her the spare battery and supplies,” Viktor adds, feeling resignation settle in his bones. This should be a victory, but somehow there’s something hollow about it. He feels torn, somehow, between his desire to do good by his people… and his desire to do good by his people.

No matter the outcome, someone will be hurt by an unjust death. Who is he to consider the losses at the Armistice ball ‘justified’ because of the evils of his own family?

No, that’s what Anya had thought. She had looked at them as collateral damage – had looked at the tense situation between the Federation and the Empire and decided it would serve as a perfect scapegoat for her own crimes.

“The battery and supplies are onboard our ship,” Emil reports over the comm.

“Yuuri, we’re sending someone over with the supplies and battery,” Mila instructs. “Make sure she hands off the Prince.”

The crates are carried on screen, into the cockpit. Anya sets down her blaster and removes the restraints around Prince Yuri’s hands and ankles. Yuuri grabs him, and the two of them start to move away with the other crewmembers –

“Wait,” says Christophe. “Emil, what kind of power core did we just transport onboard?”

“A Mark-2 Terra Incognita power core,” reports Emil. “It should be compatible with the Mandalan one.”

Christophe nods. “And Yuuri, what’s that noise?”

“What noise?” asks Yuuri, as they rush through the corridors of the ship. “The hissing? That’s been there the entire time.”

“Isn’t it static?” asks Viktor, frowning.

“No, the AV equipment is fine. I tested it recently.” Phichit frowns. “Wait, Chris, do you mean –”

“Mark-2 Terra Incognita power cores are extremely sensitive to oxygen levels, and we just gave Anya an entire supply of water – Yuuri!” Christophe shouts. “Get out of there now!”

There’s the sound of an explosion. The bridge rocks under their feet. The visual feed cuts out, only to be replaced by the horrific sight of the Almavivo exploding right in front of them.

Shields at 2%, NICA reports, red lights pulsing gently. Structural damage to the port side hull at 9’o clock. Depressurisation warning. Depressurisation warning. Depressurisa —

Viktor closes his eyes, trying to search for that familiar silence through the ringing of the voices and feelings around him. Yuuri? Yuuri?

But Yuuri does not respond.

#yoi #yoiroyaltyweek #viktuuri #victuuri #lily's dabbles #rewrite the stars #day 6 #spookyfoot #ask #sorry (not sorry)

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teroknope · 7 years ago

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Bro your writing is AMAZING!! I’d like to request if that’s cool with you? Maybe something like you’re a praetorian guard thats friends with kylo, but he doesn’t know you’re a guard (bc of the whole red theme/masks). Then in the fight scene after snoke dies Rey is fighting you & somehow ur helmet comes off and Rey is about to kill u but kylo saves you & when Rey refuses his offer to rule w him, maybe you take it instead bc u guys have lil crushes on each other?? idk man just a thought.:)

A/N : Thank you for your comment! It really means a lot to hear feedback like this, it’s really inspiring me to keep writing 〔´∇｀〕

I…really don’t know where this came from I was meant to work today but I’ve caught a cold or something; so I’ve been resting up today (By that I mean I’ve watched a SHIT ton of Adam Driver films lol). I have spent part of the day writing this. I hope you enjoy it anon! I am sorry if it’s not up to the usual standard as I said I am a bit ill! ty for your request <3

Warnings: TLJ Spoilers! Don’t read if you don’t want to be spoiled for The last Jedi.

W.C: 3,500

The honour of being a praetorian guard was reserved for the most dedicated and elite warriors; you considered it a privilege to be included in this elite group. Dedicating your entire being to the service of Supreme Leader Snoke. It was protocol to be trained in numerous martial art, perhaps the most influential being Akane, in which the imperial royal guard was trained in during the reign of The Emperor.

When you were not on duty, you were either resting or training. You took your training seriously, it was a great stress relief too. You were not sure when you would get the opportunity to train, so when you did you jumped at the chance.

This lead to a walk in with Kylo Ren himself. Ren caught you training in the room that is usually empty at that time of the day. The training room doors opened swiftly, you turned to face the open door. Your face red and your body sweaty, although you did not expect judgement as it is a training room; you are supposed to be sweaty.

“Commander Ren,” You acknowledged his presence, performing the standard First Officer Salute. You knew he was nothing like The Supreme Leader; he was better.

You knew Kylo could defeat The Supreme Leader in a combat of physical strength in mere seconds, but it was The Supreme Leaders mental ability, in particular, his strength in the force, which kept him alive. It was your responsibility to be his physical strength, your duty and your honour.

“At this hour, I normally train in this room,” He observed, his voice monotone through his helmet.

You did not know what to say, “Apologies commander, I can leave if needed”

“I can offer an alternative” He pondered “Spar with me”

You were not in a position to refuse; nor that you wanted to either.

“Yes, Commander Ren” You could not deny you were ecstatic to train with a man who wielded a lightsaber. You saw it as excellent practice, that was it, right? Nothing more.

There were numerous weapons available, you hesitated before you took the spear. Would he guess you were part of the praetorian guard? No, surely not from your choice of picking a spear.

“Let’s begin” He flicked on his erratic saber, the noise surrounding the room.

You were watching him in two ways; firstly, on the skill in which he swung his saber, as well so you could effectively block and parry his attacks. Secondly, which you would not admit to anyone, was you ogling his toned arms, well they were more than toned. Although you had not yet seen his face, you could not help finding yourself attracted to him physically

Likewise, Kylo watched you intently; he saw the strength in your physical form. You were not what he would consider a stereotypical officer to be; what stuck out for him was your individual mind. You were dedicated to The First Order but separated at the same time.

The sparring session ended when Ren knocked the blade out of your grip, it flew to the floor with an almighty thud. You were stunned, it had to be a long time since you were bested in battle.

You were breathing was short and fast, your body sweaty and warm. Ren noticed how the heat had risen to your cheeks; turning them a soft pink. He caught himself staring at you; he pulled away.

“Thank you, Commander Ren, for the opportunity” You saluted him.

“You did well; I’ll see to it that we spar again”.

That was the first time you spared with Kylo Ren and it seemed like so long. Since the discovery and pursuit of the BB8 unit you had been placed at Snoke’s side twenty-four seven, you considered yourself blessed if you got a moment to rest.

The efforts were unsuccessful, and Kylo Ren was at the front of the scrutiny of Emperor Snoke.

“Take off that ridiculous thing off” Snoke whispered, urgently and seriously.

You began to hate how he spoke to Ren; but more so why had you come to idealise a man you don’t really know or understand. But you wanted to, so much.

Praetorian guards were conditioned to react to any unspurred movement in the vicinity of The Supreme Leader. You watched the scene unfold; he had recently returned from his fight with the other force user. Being at the side of Snoke you heard the untold rage, anger and disappointment that he felt.

When Ren adamantly removed his helmet; the Ren you saw was not like the man you use to know. He looked so defeated, his dark hair fell in front of his pale face. You noticed how his right eye was a dark red, bruised and sore. Not to mention the new edition of the sharp scar falling across his eye; although the thin black bandaged covered the majority of it. You were observing Ren as Snoke continued his verbal abuse, your ears clocking back to the current moment when Snoke roared;

“… he split your spirit to the bone. You were unbalanced, bested by a girl who had never held a lightsaber, you failed!”

Kylo reacted, as any individual would. He began to hastily rose to his feet but Snoke was always one step ahead, he released a wave of force lightning which sent Ren smacking the cold ground.

You empathized with his pain immensely; the crimson armour you wore would send sharp electric currents throughout the panels. A necessity to deflect blasters and lightsaber.

The conditioned bodies of the guards reacted the moment Ren rose to his feet, yourself included. You all shifted to a battle stance; your decorated spear pointing towards Ren, the man you admired so much. The base of the spear was the same red as your armour but was decorated with a beautiful silver blade, no doubt made from the finest silver in the galaxy.

The moment Snoke returned to this throne you relaxed, spinning the spear to stand on the ground; the tip peering over your shoulder

The man you saw was not the Kylo you had come to know; although he was unaware that you knew him. He left the room and entered the elevator, you could only imagine what was whizzing through his mind.

Eventually, you were allowed to rest, you returned to your quarters. Shedding off the heavy armour. You stepped into the hot shower, letting the water wash away the intense situation that occurred today. Your mind could not help sympathising with Ren; you found yourself becoming nostalgic on the times you use to spar with him.

“Thank you for the opportunity once again, Commander” You hated being formal, but it was necessary. A few hours before Ren had left a message for you on your transceiver, a request to spar with him again.

You would not deny yourself the opportunity; you were excited about the experience. The moment you read the message your world brightened ever so sightly.

You and Ren were in the same training room as before, although this time you had not chosen your weapon. You glanced over the display of various tools and devices.

perhaps something different this time? You considered.

“No, the same weapon as last time” He spoke, ah, you had forgotten how to force users can sense the smallest detail of your mind.

“Yes, Commander” You affirmed, grasping the spear. While you were checking it over, you heard whirs and clicks that you did not recognise. Followed by a thud. You turned your head and for the first time saw the commander without his helmet.

You understood it was more of a statement rather than a need to hide anything he was ashamed of; you thought how you liked his physical features. Especially his hair, you then reminded your thoughts to be quiet.

He already had heard them of course, but he did not tell you that.

You both took the position, standing opposite each other.

“Let’s begin” He unsheathed his saber, and twirled it at the same time.

The training was far more intense than the one before, you had both gotten accustomed to your fighting style. Making it more challenging. As expected Kylo once again bested you in battle, throwing you to the floor, the spear dancing on the floor as it flew from your hand.

He held his gloved hand out to you, you took it gripping it tightly. It was so much…larger than your own.

“Thank you again, Commander” you wheezed out, trying to look respectable.

You left the shower, finally relaxed and able to sleep for the night. You hoped Kylo Ren also had ease sleeping that night, you imagined he found it difficult to sleep most nights, especially with the responsibility he carried. What followed the next day would continue to prove you wrong.

The reflection of a hissing blue blade bounced off your armour, your mind and body coming to attention the moment it ignited. You watched as it pierced through The Supreme Leader. You stopped breathing for a short second; you faced Snoke and watch the blade be pulled from him, cutting him in half.

Instantaneously you equipped your spear; yourself and the other guards began your assault on the girl and Ren. You could not show resilience, you could not show you did not want to kill the person you admired the most. But you had a duty above all.

Fate had landed you in the position to fight the girl, wielding the blade that killed Snoke. He was fast, although slightly inexperienced but the rage made up for this. The rage seethed through her eyes as her blade hit your spear. You focus was on her, but you observed from the corner of your vision how your fellow guards fell one by one.

This is it you gravely thought. The end of your life was near.

The girl scraped the saber against the floor, the hot sparks bouncing off your armour. The blade swung close to your feet, you instinctually stepped back. Unfortunately not far enough.

As she pulled the blue saber up it ripped through the front of your crimson helmet. Scraping away at the armour, somehow missing the right side of your face. It obliterated the front of the helmet; leaving a large gaping chunk. Rendering it useless. Nevertheless, you continued to fight back.

Kylo watched as Rey glided through the helmet like it was nothing; the more you moved the more the masked chipped away.

Eventually, the right side of your face was exposed

It’s her. The thoughts whizzed through Ren’s mind. The one I sparred with.

The right of the helmet continuously chipped off, you got frustrated. Ripping off the rest of your helmet. You could still feel the heat of the saber lingering on the broken armour.

This was when the girl used the moment to her advantage.

You were no stranger to being hit by the force, in the early days of your training you were frequently conditioned to withstand such an intense power. She held out her hand in front of you and your body came to a sudden halt. You knew what was coming.

She forcefully pushed you, sending you flying into the wall very high from the floor; your back violently crashed into it. You felt your armour crack, which spread throughout your chest area.

Miraculously the armour still proved useful as you fell to the floor with a depressing thud, your spear falling arm length away from you. if it was not for your Armor you would not have survived the fall; although the pain was indescribable.

Your eyes were begging to close, but you force them open. The impact had flown through your entire being, affecting you in multiple ways. You thought this would be it; she would come to finish you off. You imagined her shoving the lightsaber through your chest, this is how you would die.

By the grace of the gods, it seemed the girl had forgotten you once you were out of her immediate proximity and focused on your fellow guards. One was holding Ren in a choke, you could see him struggling

She threw her saber to Ren, who in one click of a switch put it through the head of the last guard.

That’s it, you was the last one.

The girl then turned to you. It appears she would not show you mercy after all, anyway why would she? You served the most powerful and most destructive being in the galaxy; there would be consequences.

Your arm weakly stretched out and gripped your broken spear; although it was not in its prime it was still sharp. A last-minute defence.

Her eyes bolted to you, she saw you reach out and grip your weapon. You could feel her march over to you, her footsteps heavy on the metal floor. Although your senses were blurry, you could tell at the velocity in which she was coming to finish the job.

“Rey” That deep voice, which you had come to admire called out. She ignored it and continued powering towards your defenceless body.

“There is no life left in that one” Your heart sank.

“leave her to die”. Your heart sank even more.

You were not sure if it was due to the intense physical pain that she caused or the intense emotional pain that he had just inflicted. But tears begin to sting your eyes, dripping down your bloody face.

Had Kylo Ren betrayed The First Order? Was he to return from where he came? Anger and confusion surged through your veins, Ren could sense this. Rey thought he was staring at her, but he was staring through her. At you.

Trust me, stay still, do not move. His voice reverberated through your mind.

Calmness washed throughout your body, although this was not the best decision in this moment in time as you felt your body beginning to slip in and out of consciousness. Resulting in you hearing parts of their conversation.

“It’s time to let old things die…We can rule together and bring a new order to the galaxy”

So, he had not betrayed The First Order; not entirely.

“Please, don’t go this way” She begged

‘Your nothing, but not to me” Oh, did he care for her? It seemed like she did

“Join Me” Ah, another stab in the chest.

“Please” He was pleading; you sort of hoped she took his decision. You could imagine the consequences if she did not.

You regained a clearer consciousness when you felt a strange force hitting your body. You forced your sore eyes open; observing Ren and the girl pushing themselves away from one another. The lightsaber hanging in the middle. Momentarily a bright light surrounded the room, both of them flying in opposite directions. The sheer force of the blast rolled you over, knocking you out once again.

By the time you awoke the throne room was somehow worse than before, more specs of fire falling from the ceiling. You looked around the room.

The girl was gone. Perhaps she had offered you mercy or had more important matters to see to. Either way, you were relieved, and very lucky.

Wait, Kylo. His name shot through your mind like a speeder, your eyes desperately searching for him. You could not mistake his broad frame, collapsed on the metal floor, his back facing you. You could not tell if he was breathing, you still had a duty, you had to get closer to him.

You slowly rose to your feet by leaned up onto your knees, continuing onto standing on your right foot and then you left. Your body ached like no pain you had ever known.

You limped over to Kylo; your weight bearing down on your injured left leg. You held onto your side in which the girl cut you, while it was not a deep cut it hurt badly. You could feel your muscles begging for rest. Eventually, after what seemed like far too long you reach Kylo’s body. Your training kicked in; begrudgingly you knelt down next to him. Letting out a groan of pain as you moved next to him,

“Commander Ren,” you called to him as loud as you could, which was actually the sound of whispering.

You hastily removed the armour from your right hand, Flexing your fingers. The soothing air hitting the bloody skin. You placed two fingers on Ren’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

It was there, faint, but there. You sighed. Thank the heavens.

Commander Hux entered the room, his face paler and pastier than usual. The destruction was beyond what he had imagined. He wearily walked over to The Supreme Leader’s split body; he watched The Supreme Leader’s lower half fall to the floor. The thud reverberating throughout the shattered room.

You had not glanced at his corpse once. You did not desire that image burned into your mind for the rest of your days. You were unaware of Hux gazing at you and Ren, you were too focused on making sure The Commander was alive; as a consequence, you were oblivious to Hux maliciously pulling out his pistol.

Kylo awoke with a gasp, his head facing the floor. You instinctively placed your hand on his shoulder, he gazed at your bloody face.

“Your alive” He gently spoke. Kylo stared at you; he noticed how your bottom lip had a large cut in which the blood around it had dried up. Your eyes bloodshot, your face once perfectly clean was covered with small nicks, bruises and blood. He only imagined how bruised your body would have looked. Ren could tell you were in agony, but admiring you for persevering

Hux placed the pistol back into its holster, sneakily pulling his back coat over it.

“What” Hux was pissed, you had only known General Hux around The Supreme Leader, like a doting child. You had never heard such anger in this voice although you imagined him to expressing it frequently. “Happened”.

“The girl murdered Snoke” He was lying through his teeth, it was necessary for his survival.

“General” You stood hastily, the pain shooting through your body. Hux could tell you were in great pain, he did not care.

“I can corroborate with Commander Ren, what he speaks is the truth”. You saw Hux’s pale eyes gaze you up and down; no doubt judging you for how defeated you had looked. You would have no motive to lie, you were a guard and nothing more. You saw Hux’s eye observe you with concern. Kylo hastily stood up,

“What happened?” He sturdily asked Hux.

“She took Snoke’s escape craft” Hux spoke, grinding his teeth in anger.

“I know where she is going…get all of our forces down to that Resistance base, let’s finish this” He asserted his authority, without a shadow of a doubt.

“Finish this?” You instantly recognised the threatening tone of Hux’s voice. “who do you think you’re talking to?”

Your aching body reacted instinctively, taking a defensive stance to the side of Ren. Albeit you would be useless without a weapon and not to mention how beaten up your body was. It hurt to lift your limbs so it would be impossible to perform hand-to-hand combat. He did not need you to defend him, but it was more of a symbolic signifier to general Hux. One which Kylo did take notice of.

—-

After Ren had force strangled Hux and assumed his position as The Supreme Leader you hastily retreated to your chambers, you knew the fight was not over. But you were no use to anyone in this physical condition. You tore off the remains of your crimson Armor, countless panels laying on your once clean floor.

There was no time to take a shower regrettably as you would begin the assault on the rebel base, in which Ren asserted that you would accompany him.

The sound of the door sliding open brought you to attention, you walked out of your private bedroom freshly changed into your First Order uniform; he was standing there, with troopers behind him.

“Leave us,” He commanded the pair, who took watch outside of your chambers.

There was a pause for a short second “I never suspected you were a praetorian guard” he inquired.

“You never asked” You smirked at him, “Besides, I felt best if I kept my identity as a praetorian guard a secret so it would not impact my duties” You muttered, actively lying through your teeth. Since you had met Kylo your entire stance on being a guard had changed, watching Snoke torture him made your blood boil.

“I am still bound by my duty. If you would have me, I want to serve you. Although I feel that was obvious by my actions earlier, I feel it had…value if I say it to you directly” You warmly smiled at him.

He took a step closer to you, your heart leapt for a second.

Ren’s eyes never left yours, moments ago he was betrayed by the one person he believed would join him. Yet here you were, someone who had always been there, diligent, loyal and strong. It made his heart slightly flutter.

“So, you will join me?” He repeated himself, he was so close to you that the personal space was almost none existent.

“You never had to ask, I am always at your side Supreme Leader Ren.”

#Kylo Ren x Reader #Anonymous #Kylo Ren Imagine #Kylo Ren #Star Wars Imagine #TLJ #The Last Jedi Spoilers #TLJ Spoilers #Star Wars #Star Wars Fanficiton #Kylo Ren Fanficiton #This one is so long LOL #TheLeastWriting #MKWrites

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