#oh well they seem to do better with armored core though I have not seen much about it

[prototypelq]

listening to dark souls design critiques works better than therapy, tried and true method I promise

[parker-razor]

show me, feel me, teach me - ch. 4

previous // next

series masterlist!

female!reader x mando

word count: 2.8k

series summary: during a drinking game, you let slip that you don’t know much about sex. mando offers to show you what you’ve been missing, and you happily accept.

warnings: smut that’s so filthy it’s insane (extended warnings under the cut), lotssss of fluff, mentions of insecurities

a/n: today’s the first day i didn’t have to work in awhile and i had to write some more... this chapter in particular made me all blushy so lemme grab my vibrator real quick

extended warnings: somnophilia, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, grinding, cum eating, masturbation, multiple orgasms

*****

You watched Mando as he hauled the heavy, limp bounty up the ramp of the ship. You had offered to help, but Mando, ever the gentleman, refused. So, you and the kid watched him drag the lifeless body into the Crest, and into carbonite.

Apparently, Mando had gotten so excited to see you when he made it back to the ship last night that he abandoned the body at the foot of the ship and scurried inside and into your quarters. It wasn’t like the body was going anywhere, Mando had argued. He just needed to see you.

After your little… chat over the comm, Mando was still rearing to be with you. As soon as you had fallen asleep at the end of your call, he jumped to his feet and continued on his hunt at a speed he had yet to hunt at. He had thought that after getting some of his drive for you out of his system that he could rest for a while before he kept hunting. But just the opposite happened; hearing your voice, your moans, the way your words hit him right in the chest… Maker he just had to get back to you.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you splayed out on your bed. Your tank top was almost see through, and you only had a pair of underwear on as bottoms. He just needed a taste.

After he quietly stripped his armor and clothes off him, he gently pulled your underwear down to your knees and knelt down on the bed. He must’ve not smelled too great after days of hunting, but he was too drunk on your presence to be self-conscious.

He couldn’t stop himself from delving between your thighs, making out with your dripping cunt. It must have still been wet from your earlier orgasm, or maybe you were dreaming of him. Maker, he hoped you were.

You were asleep, so it didn’t totally matter if he tasted you with any technique or rhythm. Flicking your clit with no real purpose other than to have your taste in his mouth, to have his tongue flooded with your essence. His cock hardened at an ungodly rate, and he couldn’t help but start stroking himself fast. He didn’t care about his pleasure, or frankly your pleasure; he just wanted to taste you.

All the sudden, he heard you speak up, and you were coming into his mouth with a vengeance, and he came all over his hand with you.

He didn’t want to bother you too much, so he figured one orgasm was enough (for now). He crawled up to you, kissing your shoulders and your neck and your cheeks. You had no doubt fallen back to sleep by then, and Mando was overwhelmed with sleep as well. He drifted off with his head rested on your chest, your hands carded through his curls as his breathing slowed.

Mando had never been with a woman like he had been with you. Sure, he hadn’t technically been with you in the biblical sense just yet, but this was so different. He had had one-night stands when he had time to spare on a hunt, some girl in a bar who gawked at his armor who he figured would be willing to let him get his frustrations out. A grateful damsel he saved, who was coincidentally being attacked by the bounty he was tracking. Not many women, but enough to know just what he was doing and just how to make someone writhe in pleasure.

But you… you were radiant.

Your beauty was unconventional; your skin rolled around your waist, your stomach hung over just a little with stretch marks littering your inner thighs and hips. When you slept, your neck folded into little rolls. But Mando adored all of it. Not in a patronizing way, but because you were truly just gorgeous. Not despite of your flaws, but because of them. They weren’t flaws to Mando, they were just what made you more and more perfect.

Many of the women he had been with exaggerated their pleasure. It wasn’t fake, just turned up a bit because they figured it would make Mando more confident. Mando hated that, when women would be dramatic when displaying their pleasure. You never did that, though. Your sounds were… primal. Like you were trying to hold them in, but you felt so good that you couldn’t help it. They were involuntary grunts, yells, and gasps. Just the memory of it made Mando hard under his armor.

Not to mention, you had never felt this way before. You didn’t know that there was an expectation for women to be loud and exaggerated in bed. The sounds you made were all you, and that is what got to Mando most.

Mando was pulled out of his daydreams as you approached him, feeling around his arms and shoulders.

“Do you have any cuts? What do you need treated? We don’t have a ton of bacta kits left, but if you really need it then-“

“I’m okay, I’m not hurt. Just a little bruised. All I want is some food and to hang out with you and the kid.”

You and Mando had grown accustomed to eating or drinking back-to-back since the drinking game that started all of this. It was better than Mando locking himself away in his quarters; he hadn’t shared a meal with someone in years. But being able to chat with you and enjoy his food was a luxury.

“What did this guy do?” you asked as you munched on some bread and cheese.

“No clue. They never really tell me, which I kinda get. A lot of these guys are scum bags, they should be ashamed,” Mando responded, taking a sip of water.

“Did this one put up a fight?”

“At first, but then he realized he couldn’t beat me.” You shivered for a moment, thinking about Mando’s strength. You knew the armor added another layer to make him seem bigger and stronger, but even without it he was built. He didn’t have a six-pack, he wasn’t totally shredded, but Maker, was he strong. His arms, his chest, his broad fucking shoulders, they made you needy. You had seen him knock out a man in one punch, some guy who had grabbed your ass at a bar. You didn’t know at the time why you felt an ache between your legs when you saw that, but now you do after your lessons.

After you had both eaten and fed Grogu, Mando decided it was time to depart to catch his second bounty. You grabbed any gear still lingering outside the ship, secured any loose weapons, and in no time Mando was preparing to take off. You were off to Naboo this time, a planet you had been dying to visit. Almost all of the planets Mando had taken you to were either barren or covered in buildings, large urban areas. Naboo was green, apparently, with beautiful buildings and cascading waterfalls. You couldn’t wait.

Mando sat in the pilot’s chair as you sat behind him in the passenger’s seat. Grogu, still exhausted from the three-day strike on sleep, snoozed in his enclosed pram in the captain’s quarters. So it was just you and Mando…

It was a bumpy takeoff; although Mando was a great pilot, the Crest wasn’t exactly shiny and new. The ship left Tattoine’s atmosphere, and after a few minutes of cruising in empty space, Mando put the ship into hyperspace.

It was quiet as Mando hit some random buttons and you watched the stars fly by you at an insane speed. You thought about last night, not remembering much other than coming hard. Were you dreaming? You remember waking to Mando’s arms around your waist and his face buried in your chest, but everything during the night was a blur.

“When… when you came back last night, did you fall right to sleep? Or did you-“

“Eat your pussy? Yeah, I just wanted to taste you. I hope that’s okay.” You gulped, slightly shocked at Mando’s bluntness. You were only really used to hearing him talk dirty while in the act, not him bringing it up so casually. You squirmed a bit in your seat, causing Mando to turn back to look at you.

“What, you like that? You like that I couldn’t wait for you to wake up before I tasted your cum? Yeah, I bet you do, pretty girl,” he rasped, making you whine and your legs clench together.

“Why don’t you come sit?”

“I’m… already sitting, Mando.”

“No, come sit over here, with me. On me.” Stars.

You rose from your seat as Mando turned his chair to face you so you’d have room to sit without the control panel in the way. His legs spread, and he sat back in his chair with his arms resting on his knees. Kriff, he looked so fucking good.

You weren’t sure how Mando wanted you to sit on him, so you straddled one of his thighs, gasping as the hard metal plate met your core.

“Oh, is that what you want, sweet thing? You wanna sit on my thigh?”

“Yeah Mando, can I please?”

“Of course, baby, just wasn’t expecting you to sit on me like that.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself in closer to him. As you moved closer, you couldn’t ignore the way it felt when you rubbed yourself on his armored thigh. It felt fucking good, the same friction you felt when Mando would use his fingers on you. Out of instinct, you couldn’t help but do it again.

“Oh fuck, is my good girl gonna grind on my thigh? Does that feel good?” You whined, Mando’s hands grasping your hips to encourage your movements. “Go ahead, baby, get yourself off on me. Take what’s yours.”

“M-Mando… feels s-so good…” Your hips sped up as the friction continued to nurse the ache growing in your cunt.

“Want it to feel better, honey? Here, let me show you,” Mando groaned, lifting you so you were planted not on his thigh, but directly over his crotch. He wasn’t wearing a codpiece, you didn’t expect him to when all he was doing was flying. So you gasped when you felt his hard cock rub up against you cunt.

“Oh, s-stars, Mando, I like this a lot…”

“Yeah? You like feeling my cock rub on you? Go ahead, grind on it, make yourself feel good.” His grip on your hips were bruising as you ground your pussy hard onto his crotch. The head of his cock nudged itself right against your clit between your clothes, making your eyes cross and hands grasp at Mando’s shoulders.

“Oh, I bet that feels s-so good, pretty girl, it feels good for m-me too… Fuck, I can feel how wet you are, it’s seeping through my pants. Keep going, you’re doing so good for me.”

Your moans got louder and louder, sounding out as “uh uhs.” Your eyebrows creased together, and Mando grabbed your cheeks to tilt your eyes down towards his.

“Look at me, baby, let me see you when you cum. Let me look into your eyes. Maker, your p-pussy is so wet, I can feel it. Come on baby I know you wanna cum, go ahead and cum.” You were shouting now, your moans echoing in the cockpit. This was the closest the two of you had gotten to fucking, and the idea of Mando’s cock being so close to your cunt sent you over the edge.

Warmth flooded you, and your legs shook violently as you came. Your thighs clenched over and over around his hips, keeping your eyes right on his visor.

“Fuck, Mando, fuck fuck, Mando, Mando!”

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl. So f-fucking good for me.” As you came down, you noticed Mando was still hard. And you still wanted him.

“Can… Can I have you? In my mouth?”

“Shit, baby, you want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Please, Mando, want you to feel good. Want your cock down my throat.” You shakily climbed off his lap and knelt to the ground. Your hands trembled as they came up to his pants, tugging at the waistband until his cock sprung up against his armor. You looked at the thigh you had just been grinding on, and saw there was a wet spot staining his armor. It made you want to cum again.

“I’m not gonna last long baby, already so close,” Mando rasped out, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation.

“I don’t care, I just need you to tell me what to do.”

“Gladly, sweet girl. Start by licking the tip, yeah just like that.” You flicked the bead of precum leaking from Mando’s cock, his taste flooding your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the tip, eventually licking down his shaft. You had almost forgotten how big he was… almost.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good. Y-You want to put it in your mouth now? You got this, baby, take it nice and- oh f-fuck me.” Your actions interrupted Mando’s train of thought, his cock entering the warm wet of your mouth. You weren’t totally sure what to do from there; Mando had just said he wanted his cock in your mouth, so now what?

“Okay, baby, you know how you stroked my cock with your hand the other day? Just do the same with your mouth, and suck while you do it. G-gonna do so well for me, I know it.” You did as he said, and his reaction was instantaneous. He moaned out so loud you’d think the whole ship could hear it. It finally hit you that Mando’s cock was in your mouth, and stars if that didn’t make a new wave of wetness flood your inner thighs. You couldn’t stop yourself from pushing your hand down your pants, rubbing your clit like Mando taught you as you sucked on him.

“H-Holy shit, baby, are you touching yourself? You rubbing that little clit? Do I make you that wet, pretty one? F-Fuck you’re doing so good, feels so good. Y-You’re a natural…” His words made you moan around his cock, the vibrations making his hips buck up into your mouth. For a second he was worried he’d gone too far, until you pushed your head down even further.

“Fuck, such a g-good girl for me, g-gonna cum in your m-mouth, d-don’t stoppp.” You sucked hard at the tip as your fingers circled faster on your clit, and you were already falling over the edge. Mando’s cum flooded your mouth as he moaned out your name, and his taste made you writhe on your fingers, white flooding your vision. The whines around Mando’s cock as you came made his orgasm last even longer, leaving him totally breathless. It took him a moment to realize that you were still probably holding his cum in your mouth, causing him to jump up and come to your aid.

“Shit, baby, here’s a rag, you can-“ He was stopped short when he noticed you breathing heavily below you, mouth agape and… empty.

“Wait, what did you do with…”

“I swallowed it. I like how you taste,” you whined, totally out of breath and fucked out. Mando’s head hit the back of his seat in awe of how hot you were, swallowing his cum the first time you took him in your mouth, just because you liked it.

“Fuck, come here, baby. Come sit in my lap, let me love on you.” You clambered up into his lap with shaky legs, overwhelmed with the amount of dopamine that flooded your brain. You were still trying to catch your breath as you rested your head on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. These were the moments you held with you when Mando was gone; his comforting touch, how gentle he was despite the damage you knew he could do. You kissed the sliver of skin that peaked out between his collar and his helmet, at which he pulled you in closer to his chest.

All the sudden you heard a crash from below the cockpit and a loud wail… Grogu.

*****

tag list: @niiight-dreamerrrr @ajeff855 @ohhersheybars @sleep-tight1 @jefferson-in-the-tardis @constanzee @halerune @liltangerineart @thewintersoldierswife @ah-callie @witchy-ana @chibi @greyteacup @justanotherblonde23 @hotsauceonabiscuit @pcrushinnerd @altarsw @nerd-without-a-cause @yajairaholmes @stardust-kenobi

[heavenunderthemoon]

Olly, Olly, Oxen Free {Hotch x daughter!reader}

Warnings: PLEASE, be advised of the SEVERE mentions of gun violence, murder, death, etc. This is a heavy piece, so please, please, please, do not put yourself at risk to read this, if you would like to know the plot without reading let me know and I will accommodate as best as I can!

This is set in “100″, so, daughter!reader is currently trapped with foyet in her childhood home. Alright, enjoy. 

"Y/N."

You sprung from your place on the floor, watching your brother retreat past the living room, his feet happily climbing the old route he used to take in the childhood home he was raised in. You  doubted he forgot it so soon, even with his young age. This was the house they had made home. Over the last year, you would've done anything to be back in this house, surrounded by the memories of your past life. The life in which you weren't forced into the witness protection program, abandoning all of your friends due to a serial killer hellbent on destroying your father's life.

Your hand reached out, gently grabbing the cellphone extending from the hands of your mother's.

"Dad."

You forced herself to sound calm, composed. Sitting only ten feet from you was a man who had previously shoved a blade into your father's abdomen just to prove a point. You figured seeming weak wasn't particularly a good idea.

There was the hum of an engine, one that you knew well. When you was younger- much younger- you used to wait up for you father to come home from cases. Most nights you fell asleep before he came back, but on the rare occasion you actually made it past midnight, you could hear that very same hum of his government issued SUV pulling into the driveway, subsequently causing you to dart out of  bed to jump into his waiting arms. It never mattered to you that you would receive a scolding from your mother for not going to bed at a proper time, not when you would see the smile that grew on her father's face when you accomplished your goal.

That smile, so rare and so blinding, hardly even captured in pictures. Your father was a tired man, a hardworking man, a dedicated father, but all of his good qualities had hardened into stone from the heat of his job and sometimes you feared that eventually, even you might not be able to crack that tough exterior. It seemed silly, sure, but your mother used to be able to find the chinks in his armor, used to make him laugh and smile and love and then one day she couldn't and who was to say that it wouldn't happen to you too?

"Y/N/N, I love you, you know that?" He used the nickname Jack had accidentally given you. When he was just learning to talk, the boy was unable to fully pronounce your name and you had been stuck with it ever since. You used to hate it- or, at least pretend to, but you could never yell at Jack. The boy was too good at absolutely melting you.

Your father's voice, which was typically strong and gruff, came out a bit cracked. It filled you with a sinking feeling. If your father wasn't composed then how the hell were you supposed to be?

The man who hoisted you on his shoulders every Fourth of July to see the fireworks better, or grabbed every spider that made you scream for your life. The man who taught you how to swing a baseball bat and then immediately yelled because you whacked him right in the knee. A fearless, strong, admittedly taciturn man that was making abundantly clear the ambiguity of your future.

You swallowed down that fear, you couldn't afford to be afraid right now. Y/E/C  eyes looked up to your mother. She was still beside you, looking at her daughter as if trying to engrain every single facet of your face in her mind, burning the image of her daughter into her memory.

"I know, I love you too." You didn't know how you managed to keep your voice so even but to anyone listening it sounded like a normal conversation. She could almost imagine they were sitting at a dinner table (something they hadn't done in a year because of the Witness Protection Program).

Pass the salt. She would've said.

"I need you to listen to me carefully, Bug." If you hadn't been so worried that you might die soon you might've found yourself scolding the man not to use that nickname anymore. After your friends had slept over in seventh grade and heard your father use it you were teased relentlessly, but now you didn't mind it. You didn't mind your father using a nickname you hated. You didn't mind a lot of things now that you were facing death, serial killer breathing the same air as you and your mother, standing in your living room, staring at you with cold, calculating eyes.  

It's funny how little things matter when death enters the picture.

"Remember when I taught you to drive?"

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you glanced to your mother, trying to keep your face void of emotion.

You hadn't learned to drive. You had begged your father, of course, but he had said no. You remembered the fight that had ensued, his words loud just to overpower your teenaged protests. "There's no use learning to drive when your mother's here, sometimes me, and the metro, it's useless. It would do you better to learn something more useful, like shooting a gun."

Oh.

The sinking feeling returned in the pit of your stomach. Or maybe it just never left. Your eyes hardened with resolve over what you knew her father was asking you to do, and you nodded.

"Yeah."

A tiny breath of air left your parted lips, and even with the confusion laced on her mother's features and the amusement playing on Foyet's, your mind cleared a bit.

Frontside. Trigger press. Follow through.

"I'm a terrible driver." You murmured to her father. Your hand began to sweat at what he was asking of you. You recalled the shooting lessons. It had been a year or so ago, the man wanting you to be prepared for anything and then he had been shot and you hadn't seen him since. Even with the little practice, you hadn't been too bad, but this was nothing like the shooting range. This was pointing a gun at a killer and hoping to anything that was good and holy that you didn't miss. Even so, who said you could get to the gun before Foyet got to you?

"You're good enough."

Good enough. You wanted to scream.

Foyet rose from his spot on the floor, and Haley stiffened in her place.

"I think that's good enough, right, Y/N?" The way he moved, eyes trained onto you, alight with a kind of...mischief? Yes, mischief. Like an adolescent boy who just found his father's stash of fireworks. His body moved like a predator. Refined, sophisticated, and calculated.

And, as he moved closer, you could smell him. He didn't smell like you thought a killer would smell. Though, to be fair, you hadn't ever given much thought to the scent of a killer. Maybe you thought that someone capable of such dirty, heinous crimes would smell as such. Like the rotten core would seep through their pores and become a putrid scent recognizable to those surrounding him. Instead, he smelt clean. Like laundry detergent and freshly washed hair. The hand that didn't hold the gun reached up, taking a strand of your hair into his fingers and running it through them deftly.

"Don't touch me." You pushed him back on instinct and, not seeming to expect such force, the man was shoved back two steps. Rather than cocking the gun right then and there, Foyet looked at you with interest and then, he did something you didn't expect. He smiled.

A laugh fell through his lips. It bubbled and boiled and hit your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Wow, you've got a feisty one, Aaron. I think she gets that from you, the old ball and chain over here is a bit of a whiner." He chuckled to himself like he said the world's funniest joke, and you glared.

"Leave them alone." Your father may as well have been on mute because the killer paid no mind to his orders.

He breathed in a deep sigh, looking at you with those same bright, calculated eyes. Then, as if coming to a consensus, tilted his head. "How about this, how about you go hide, I'll give you a head start, and then I'll come find you."

You could feel her mother bristle from beside you, quiet whimpers coming from her mouth. The hum of the engine played in the background, and the wind chimes on the front porch sang a tune with the breeze. "No." You said firmly.

Foyet pouted, going to stand closer to the two. With each step he took closer to the two of you, it felt like a nail going into her coffin. You could see the twitch in his hands, as if itching to plunge a blade into your mother's flesh, yet, you couldn't just leave your mother. You couldn't leave her to die.

"Ah, come on. You're a teenager- a teenage girl, no less, aren't you guys supposed to be fun?" His tone was teasing and coupled with his non-imposing figure, he shouldn't have been able to chill you with his words but the way his eyes bored into yours they did.

You felt a hand on your elbow, a nudge and you glanced back to your mother. Haley was smaller than you, it had been that way for about a year or so now. You had hit a growth spurt once you entered high school, inheriting your father's height, and it caused you to be a couple inches taller than your mother. Her eyes were filled with tears that were streaming down her face without care. You had seen her mother cry more than most daughters should.

Haley liked to cry at night, after putting her children to bed. She didn't think about how often you stayed up, listening to the sobbing on the other side of the wall.

A hand cupped your face, and you leaned into the warmth. How many fights had you two gotten in over the past year? You had always been a daddy's girl. He was never home, and it left your mother to be the 'bad guy' in most situations. And then, you all had been forced to pack up your lives and vanish. That year had been filled with nights of yelling at each other. Fights about small things. Like, your music playing too loud, or drinking too much coffee. And big stuff too. Like, you confronting your mother about having an affair.

Your relationship had been rocky. But, she was still your mother. She still reminded you to wear a coat when it was cold out, or washed your sheets when you felt sick. She made your favorite meals when you were sad, and bought  nail polish that she thought you would like. She was your mother, and you didn't think you would ever be able to ignore that.

"Y/N, go." Her words were stern, and it reminded you of a scolding. But your mother's lips were tugging at the corners, and she was caressing your cheek so softly that you thought you would collapse right there. Your heart clenched at the sight of your mother.

Would this be the last time you saw her? The thought made you want to scream, cry, and punch something all at once.

For the first time that afternoon, you let your mask slip. Your eyes welled with tears, lip trembling. "Mom, no." it came out shaky, and you didn't have to turn around to see Foyet smiling at the way he could make an entire family fear for their lives in a mere couple of minutes. You could simply feel it.

Haley nodded, both her hands cupping your face now, scanning it over and over again. Your eyes, a fierceness to them that mimicked her own. A button nose that sat above rosy pink lips. On your chin, a small scar. You were an adventurous child. You hadn't been afraid to climb the monkey bars despite being far too small for them and when you had fallen off, you had busted the skin open. Haley remembered being panicked, seeing you covered in blood, rushing you to the hospital, to find that you were calmer than she was. That's how you always were. You were never scared. You were brave and fearless and kind and even if you played awful, punk alternative music that made Haley's ears want to bleed, you were such a sweet girl with a big heart. The mother stood on her tiptoes, kissing your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, trying to burn the memory of her mother's lips on your forehead in your mind. And when you opened them again, you tried to burn the image of your mother as well. Even now, red eyed and sniffling, your mother was beautiful. Everyone always told you, you looked just like your mother. Haley used to have blonde hair. It had passed her shoulders and you used to beg her to play hair salon because of it. She had cut it after the divorce and you had a suspicion that it was because she craved change. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, just like yours. It made her skin pull taut when she smiled. Her nose was soft and dainty- something you had always been jealous of.

What if you never saw your mother smile again?

Haley was nodding, nodding and patting the girl's cheek and it took you a moment to realize she was speaking once more. "Go, baby. I'll be okay."

No, you won't. You wanted to say. You wanted to let your body fall into your mother's arms and have the woman hold you like she did when you were a child. You wanted to feel your mother's hands run through your hair and hear the woman sing you to sleep. You didn't care how childish it seemed, you just wanted your mother.

Your shoulders shook and you fought to keep your emotions from consuming you.

"I- I love you." It was a desperate attempt at closure but it did nothing to make you feel better. It only made your mother smile.

"I love you too." Haley gave one final pat before a light shove and you felt numb. You couldn't feel yourself hand the phone to your mother, nor could you feel your feet move in the desired direction. Everything in you felt like it was simultaneously being doused in cold water and burned in hot flames. Your mind kept screaming at you to go back. Turn around, grab your mother and hope for the best but you could hear Foyet talking with your mother now and she knew that your father had told you what to do next.

It was weird.

All the nights you had spent in that stupid witness protection program, closing your eyes imagining you were back in your childhood home. You would pretend you were back in your room, waiting for your father to come home. You would pretend your mother was putting Jack to sleep and you would pretend that everything was normal. Now you were back and everything was wrong.

Focus.

After teaching you how to properly use a gun, Aaron had told you where one could be found in cases of dire emergencies. Your feet stepped lightly, moving as swiftly as you could. The laces on your converse slapped against the sides of the shoes and you silently pulled open your father's nightstand. It hadn't been touched since you all had moved out.  It was normal upon first glance. A couple of papers, reading glasses, sleeping pills. You knew better.

You pulled at the string on the bottom, the false top giving in immediately and revealing the silver .38. You grabbed for it, cocking it as quietly as you could. The weapon was heavy, yet, familiar in your hand. You thought that in a time like this you would be more shaky, but all you could focus on was your mother's quiet sobs from the living room a whole story down.

The sound gave you hope. If she could cry, then she was alive. You pushed on with that thought in mind, rounding the corner. Just before you could head back downstairs and possibly take down Foyet, you heard it.

Gunshots.

Your mother cried out the first time, but it was completely silent after the second two. Just the light thud of a body hitting the floor.

You bit down on your cheek to keep herself from screaming. The taste of blood followed soon after. Your hand rose to your mouth, attempting to muffle the cries that attempted to escape.

"Y/N!" A sing song-y voice called out. There was a thumping sound on the stairs and after a sickening moment, you realized it was the sound of your mother's body hitting the wood. He was dragging her up the stairs, wanting to display her just how he liked. Your eyes burned and you let the tears fall down your cheeks without care. They dripped off your chin, falling onto your shirt. It was a band t-shirt. Your mother hated it, said that the swords were too violent, but she allowed you to wear it anyways.

You darted into the closest door- Jack's old room- eye's scanning your surroundings for a plan. Whatever Foyet was doing, you knew you didn't have much time until he was coming after you.

"I just wanna play, Y/N. Come out, come out wherever you are." He sang out. He must've taken your mother- your mother's body, you corrected yourself bitterly- to your parents bedroom. With a chilling realization, you remembered you had been there only moments before. He was close to you.

Your eyes landed on the closet, overflowing with toys, even months after not being in use. Jack tended to get whatever he asked for- not that he was spoiled, he was just hard to say no to. It wasn't difficult to squeeze into it, leaving the door open a crack. The gun sat in your hands ready and waiting.

You steadied the sound of your breathing.

How was you going to tell Jack about mom? Well that was a bit optimistic, now, wasn't it? Presumptuous of you to think you would live through the next five minutes to be able to tell your little brother that our mother was dead, You thought bitterly.

"I think I'll lay your body right next to your Mom. You'd like that, wouldn't you? So you can be together?" He was in the hallway, and even with the barrier of Jack's door and the closet door, the sound of his voice made you shiver. It was smooth, charming, even. If you hadn't known he was a complete psychopath you wouldn't have given the man much thought. You wouldn't have thought him capable of doing the heinous acts he had done.

There was a creak, the door opening to the room and your arms rose slightly. Your eyes were peaking through the crack, your heart racing. You could see the man moving into the room, searching for his next prey- and that's what he thought you were. Prey. He thought you were an easy target. Everyone did.

Everyone thought you were just some stupid kid. Some people said it outright and others just assumed. You could tell when you first met your father's team, some of them had stereotyped you as well. They had asked her about school and about boys and gossip, because they assumed that was all you were capable of speaking about and then you had surprised them by mentioning books and Neo-noir films. You were accustomed to being underestimated. And you were betting your life that George Foyet was doing the same.

As soon as you saw the man move into the middle of the room, you sprung. The door flew open and before you could hesitate, you pulled the trigger. Pure shock could've been the reason, you were able to get out of the room. Or perhaps you had managed to shoot him in the head and end your family's suffering once and for all. You weren't sure because you were moving purely on instinct. Your feet carried you through the house, jumping over toys and broken chairs and bloodstains that weren't there before.

"You bitch!"

Okay, so he was alive. He was chasing after you but you didn't look back. You jumped into the linen closet, out of breath but not allowing yourself to pant as you wanted to. You could hear the slight groans of the man as he made his way through the house, though it was farther, as if he was walking in the wrong direction. You had slowed him down, that's for sure. The gun in your hand felt warm, like a pat on the back, but the thought of your mother's dead body lying somewhere in the house sat in the back of your mind.

Where was Jack? You thought briefly. You had to trust that he was safe. Trust and pray that whatever their dad had said to him had made sense. You hoped he couldn't hear anything that was going on. That he didn't hear the sound of your mother being murdered and you shooting the killer.

You  felt the towel shelf press into your back, but you didn't dare move anymore. You were sure Foyet hadn't died now. If anything, you might've made him more angry.

It smelled like fresh laundry in the small space and it reminded you of Sunday nights. Your father was usually home, cases typically being taken during the week and coming home Saturday nights. That's why you liked Sundays so much. You liked waking up to the smell of pancakes while your father played a Beatles album. He would sing into a spatula and twirl your mother around the kitchen. And Haley would laugh and tell him to stop, but she never actually meant it. And, when he noticed you coming down the stairs, he would take you in his arms- no matter how big and tall you had gotten, he never stopped doing it. He would spin you around as well and when you was little you would dance on his feet, but when you were older, your bare feet would touch the cold hardwood floor.

Your mother would do crossword and pretend not to notice that your father was giving not-so-subtle hints every so often. Your father would have you catch him up on what you had been up to that week, and you would have to help Jack read through the comics because he didn't really understand the jokes. Sundays were your favorite days because instead of being a separate family like they were every other day, they were all together and it felt normal.

You closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Sunday.

A large clatter rang out, effectively snapping you from your thoughts. You could hear footsteps, fighting, yelling. It was hard to tell how long you waited in the closet, gun pressed to your chest. You could hear someone outside the door, light footsteps against hardwood.

The light on the bottom was obscured from a large shadow and you tried to prepare yourself. What would death feel like? Maybe you was selfish, or maybe you were a coward, but you didn't want to know. You wanted to stomp your foot and say that it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that your mother was dead. It wasn't fair that you were about to die. The door was ripped open and you extended your arms, about to shoot blindly, when you saw who was before you.

"Woah, hey, Y/N. Y/N, look at me."

You had stopped crying long ago, but your entire body was shaking. There was so much tension in your shoulders, it felt like somebody had tied you up entirely, slowly but surely squeezing the life out of you. You hadn't realized it before, much too focused in getting as far away from the serial killer in your house as possible, but when you had shot Foyet, some of his blood had splattered onto you. You could see it now that the light was on it. It sat on your hands, partially dried and partially wet. And you could feel some of it on your cheeks.

You wondered what you looked like.

Derek stared at you. Your eyes were wild, darting between the gun in your hands and the gun in Derek's. Your cheeks, flushed as they were, were painted lightly with splattered blood. The only evidence of previous tears were puffy eyes, but you hardly seemed weak right now. You seemed...feral.

"Y'N, it's me. You're safe. it's me, it's Derek. Put that gun down." It was strange. It was like you could see his lips moving, you could see that he was speaking but you couldn't hear the words. All you could hear was the sound of your mother's body hitting the stairs one at a time.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

"He's dead. Y/N, he's dead." The sound came back all at once. Everything came back all at once.

You could see people behind Derek. There were cops and medical examiners, flooding in and out of your childhood home. They all seemed to be moving toward the same place, all in the direction where you had fled. They were heading toward the body, you realized. The body of your dead mother. There was the faint sound of sirens, and there was chatter. You wanted to yell at them, scream for them to be quiet. And then you saw someone else.

Your father was coming toward you. He was covered in blood. Who's blood was that? Was that your mother's? Was that Foyet's? Movement caught your eye.

JJ was holding someone in her arms, he looked confused, pointing at his sister, eyes alarmed at the weapon in her hands and the Jaraeu woman seemed to be trying to turn him away. He was asking for you.

'Y/N/N?' He said.

Your shoulders dropped, the weapon falling into the Morgan man's waiting hands. You stepped forward. Despite your sudden awareness, everything felt like it was in slow motion. The world was moving with resistance, and you opened her arms, almost crumpling in relief when Jack squirmed away from the blonde agent and ran into your waiting arms. You scooped him into your arms, sitting him on your hip.

"Y/N!" Despite all the chaos around you two, you let yourself focus on your brother. He seemed fine. Confused, surely. He had looped his arms around your neck but his eyes squinted at the blood on your cheeks that hadn't been there before. His little eyebrows furrowed, and he reached one hand to poke your cheek. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

Jack loved you. Before you two were put into witness protection program, he didn't see you all too much. You were so busy with school and hanging out with your friends, that you hadn't even been home very often. Then, you didn't have much of a choice.

You  liked showing Jack your music- the clean versions, of course. He would scrunch his nose at certain metal heavy bands, but you assumed he liked most of them just because you did. He liked to play cards with you, and have your draw him funny sketches. And when he would have bad dreams, you never hesitated to let him sleep with you.

You felt multiple sets of eyes on you, your father pulling you into a hug. They all pretended not to notice you flinch. You kept your eyes on Jack.

"I'm fine." You took a hand, running it through the boy's ruffled hair from hiding god knows where. He giggled at the action, and you let your hand rest on his cheek for a moment. Your mother was dead somewhere in this house, her body laid across the floor, slaughtered. You swallowed down the rising bile in your throat.

"Let's get you checked out, yeah?"

[catsnkooks]

pretty girl

Cobb Vanth x (fem) reader

summary: Tired of chasing after boys in Mos Pelgo, Cobb Vanth shows you how a real man treats a lady.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: smut with some fluff at the end, 18+, daddy kink, light bondage, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, riding, light somnophilia, creampie, overstimulation

a/n: we are living!!! the self-indulgent fic life!!!! you all have @corellians-only​ to thank for this for being my thirst partner and betaing this ily cristina

taglist in the comments bc i think i’ve hit the tag limit lmaoooo click here to be added to my taglist!

here it is on ao3!!

“That’ll be twenty credits, marshal.”

The man in question raised his eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his battered chest plate. When you raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms back at him, he sighed and fished around in his pockets.

“You tryin’ to bleed me dry, girl?” He gave you a mock glare.

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t leave your speeder where Jawas can find it,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He finally fished some credits out of his pocket, sighing again at the lack of them. “Can I get you down to ten?”

“Fifteen.”

“Thirteen and I’ll buy you a drink?”

You cocked your hip, staring at him for a moment, unimpressed. His eyes pleaded with you as he held out his pitiful credits. You sighed. “Fine. But don’t expect this next time you come crawling to me for a fix.”

He grinned and winked. “I’ll see you tonight, pretty girl.”

Your body flushed hot and you hoped he hadn’t seen you almost choke and drop your tools. Your mind raced at the implication of his words, all going in different directions. A small, unrealistic, part of you prayed tonight would be like the many dreams you had about the attractive marshal.

At least, you could hope.

---

You grinned over the rim of your shot glass as Cobb told another bawdy joke, laughter erupting throughout the cantina. You took a swig of the liquor in your glass, steeling yourself with courage as Cobb swaggered over to your spot at the bar.

“Havin’ fun?” he asked, taking the stool beside you.

You shrugged. “As much as I can in a cantina full of drunks.”

He chuckled, placing his elbows on the bar counter, leaning toward you. He looked over your shoulder at something, probably the guy that had been staring at you all night and whom you’d been ignoring in turn. “You seem to be attracting a lot of eyes despite that?’

You sighed, grimacing. “Yeah.”

He returned his gaze to you. “Somethin’ wrong with that?”

“It’s nothing really, just….” You waved your hand, searching for words. “They don’t do it for me, I guess.”

He nodded, scooting his stool closer to yours so your knees touched, making your stomach flutter. “Mind if I ask why?”

You blamed your free mouth on the alcohol currently coursing through your veins. Also, the desire that fanned low in your stomach to know if he could do it for you. “They just don’t…take care of me right, I guess. They don’t want nothing more than a little fling, but I do. I'm tired of being strong all the time. I just want to be taken care of.”

Cobb nodded again, reaching his hand out to set it on top of yours, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand. You swallowed, butterflies erupting in your stomach as shivers traveled through your body at his touch.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he began. You tore your gaze away from your joined hands to look at him. His gaze had gone dark as he stared intently into your eyes. “And I'm sure you’ve seen the way I look at you. And I'm willing to make a little…arrangement, that is if you’re willing to…?”

You gaped up at him, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. You had to be dreaming. He raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk coming to his lips and you slammed your mouth shut.

“Uh, y-yeah, sure,” you stammered. “I trust you…marshal.” This was going better than any fantasy you’d ever had about him.

A slow grin spread across his face and he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. The hairs of his beard tickled your skin and you visibly shivered.

“Then how about I take you home and show you how a real man treats a lady?”

---

Cobb’s hut was sparse; though, you suppose, most huts in Mos Pelgo were. You turned your head to look around as he led you to his bedroom. A pair of spare goggles lying on his dresser here, some figurines that looked peculiarly Hutt-like there, his signature red shirts hanging off spare chairs. It was all very lived-in and so very him.

“Find something you like?” he asked once your gaze landed back on him in the center of the room. He was in the process of taking the armor off, shucking away the layer of the Marshal, and just leaving you with Cobb Vanth.

You sauntered over to him, putting a little sway in your hips as you walked, stopping right in front of him, and putting your hands on his chest. “You’re a very interesting man, marshal.”

He smirked and grabbed your wrists, pulling you close. “I'm glad you find me interestin’, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your fingers before releasing them. “I think we ought to set up some ground rules before we get started tonight.” He ushered you to sit in the center of his bed, where you pulled your feet under you to look up at him as he leaned down to talk to you.

“I won’t do nothing you don’t want me to, understand?” he began, his face completely serious. “Do you know the color system? Red means stop, green means go, yellow means wait. If you say red during any, and I mean any, part during this, I’ll stop immediately, understand?”

You nodded, your eyes wide. You didn’t expect how serious he was going to take this. It excited you, the implication that he wanted this to last.

“Now.” He stretched out, walking his hands closer to your crossed legs so you could see the dark gaze growing in his clear blue eyes. “What would you like for me to call you, hm?”

“I liked it when you called me pretty girl at the shop.” You were emboldened by his statements just before. You realized this was exactly what you had been wanting all along.

“Oh?” He arched a silvery eyebrow. “Did you?”

You nodded, biting your lip. You did. Based on the way your night was going, he’d probably noticed the small shiver that ran down your spine after the words came out of his mouth.

“Well, can’t say no to that,” he said, placing one knee on the bed and slowly looming over you.

You teased the hem of his shirt with a finger. “What would you like me to call you…daddy?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise before lowering, the smirk widening, and his eyes slowly blowing out so only his dark pupils remained. “I think that’ll work just fine, baby.” Then his lips were on yours.

His lips molded against yours like they were always meant to be there. They moved perfectly against yours, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth, and nipping it. You gasped then moaned as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring and tasting you. He tasted like the cheap spotchka at the cantina, still burning a path straight to your stomach. He pulled back and you whined, chasing his lips and pulling him down by his chest plate.

“I have to take the armor off, baby,” he chided, undoing the straps around his arms and legs, tugging off the pieces of metal.

You whined. “But I want you now!”

He gave you a stern look and you shrank, huffing.

“Now I won’t stand for that, baby,” he said, tugging off the chest plate with stiff movements. “Or do you need daddy to teach you a lesson?”

You shook your head, sticking out your bottom lip in a slight pout. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

His mouth twitched up at a corner. “Are you? Will you be good for daddy?” When you nod, he pulls off his red scarf in one swift movement. “Will you be my good girl?”

His voice, rich and sultry now, laced with lust, went right to your core and you squirmed on the bed. “Yes, I’ll be your good girl!”

He grinned, kicking off his boots and shedding his belt. “Then be a good girl and strip for me.”

You didn’t need a second warning. In a flash, you pulled off your shirt and kicked off your boots and pants. Cobb watched you with satisfaction, pulling off his shirt and toying with the fly of his pants, a bulge already prominent against the fabric. You scooted back so you faced him, making a show of taking your bra off and tossing it out somewhere in his room. He groaned and the bulge in his pants grew.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned, finally kicking his pants off, his cock springing to attention, now unhindered. Of course, he went commando.

You grinned, eyeing him from head to toe. “You’re not so bad looking yourself.”

He grinned and stalked over to his bed, his long legs striding with purpose to capture your lips in a hungry kiss. His presence ate you up, commanding you, pushing you down onto the bed. You tangled one hand in his hair, tugging at it and holding his lips to yours, while your other hand wandered down his chest, feeling the lean muscles under his skin. He caught your wrist just as you reached the base of his cock, pulling both of your wrists above your head.

“Did I say you could touch me, baby?” His beard tickled your skin as he kissed down your neck.

You whined and wriggled under him. You felt the tip of his cock hot and heavy between your thighs. He tutted at your impatience.

“Seems I’ll have to teach you to behave after all,” he mused, giving your neck one final nip before leaning up and grabbing his scarf where he left it on the bed. He loomed over you as he tied your wrists to the headboard with it. You whined and tugged your wrists in a vain effort to get them free. He tutted again.

“Oh no, good girls don’t get to be free until they behave for daddy,” he said, leaning back to admire you, spread out on his bed.

You wriggled again, your face flushing with both embarrassment and lust as Cobb gazed hungrily down at you. None of the other men you’d been with ever made you feel so wanted like Cobb did like you were the only one who could satisfy him. He leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, pinching the other between his fingers. You gasped and arched your back, pushing your breasts further into his mouth. He grinned against your chest and sucked harder. He groaned as you let out a lewd moan, trying to rut your hips against his. He kissed down your stomach, leaving a hot trail on your skin that went right to your core. His teeth teased the edge of your underwear, pulling it off of your legs and tossing it aside. Your eyes widened as you realized what he was going to do; none of the other men had done that either.

Cobb raised an eyebrow, noticing your nervousness. “Color?”

“Green,” you gasped. “Please.”

He grinned, winking at you then diving down between your legs, tossing them over his broad shoulders.

You’d been missing out all these years settling for boys. You gasped as he licked a broad stripe up your folds, clamping your thighs tight around his head. The stubble of his beard grazed your thighs, scratching at the sensitive skin there. You moaned—loud—when his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. His tongue never stopped its attentive lapping at you, dipping down into you, and then licking back up, circling your clit, and sucking on it once more. You tugged pitifully at your binds while one of his hands would around your body to grasp at your breast, the other coming up to insert two thick fingers into your soaked hole.

Cobb growled as he watched you toss your head back, your eyes rolling back into your head in pleasure. His fingers curled against your walls, stroking that one spot as his lips focused all of their attention on your clit. “Cum for me, baby. C’mon, you can do it.”

“Daddy!” You screamed as his actions prodded you over the edge. You were lost in ecstasy, your mouth gaping open through the fluttering waves of your arousal. You finally came to when you felt Cobb’s beard tickling your thighs as he kissed up your legs.

“Did you like that, pretty girl?” he said, kneeling above you, holding your legs up and against his chest.

You nod, your chest heaving. “Yeah. Thank you, daddy.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss you. You moaned as you tasted yourself on his lips. “It’s about to be so much better, baby.” Then he entered you with one fluid thrust.

You both groaned at the feeling. You, because he filled you up so perfectly, making you feel so full like he was always meant to be there. Him, because of the way you fluttered around him, so warm and tight. He began to move, slowly, building up the pressure in your core. There was no way you’d last long, not with the way his cock was hitting you so deep and the way his nimble fingers were circling your clit. Your cries became higher and higher, louder and louder until you could barely hear him grunting and groaning above you. His thrusts were wild, pistoning his hips into yours.

“Are you gonna cum again, pretty girl?” he growled. His hands gripped your thighs tight and laughed when you nodded feverishly. “Then cum on daddy’s cock.”

He’d delivered on his promise. Three more hard thrusts and you were cumming. A high keening cry came from your lips as you tossed your head back, arching your back as far as you could. Your legs shook against Cobb’s chest as he stilled deep inside you, letting you clench around him.

When you finally came to, Cobb was leaning over you, reaching up to untie your wrists from his scarf. They dropped limply onto the pillows. You realized as you fluttered through the aftershocks of your orgasm that he still sat thick and heavy inside you and you whimpered.

“Can you cum one more time for daddy?” he cooed. He gathered you up in his arms then flipped the both of you over, so you were straddling his hips, holding yourself up on your unsteady arms.

You lifted your hips, slowly, testing out your position. You whimpered again as you sank onto his cock, your now oversensitive core clenching tight around him.

“You look so pretty like this, baby girl,” Cobb groaned. He helped you pick up speed, thrusting his hips up when you sank down on him. “So pretty riding daddy’s cock.”

You clenched tighter around him at his words and he moaned louder. “Cobb.”

“Fuck!” His hands grasped your hips in a vice-like grip, holding you down so he could fuck up into you. “Cum for me again baby, please, you look so pretty when you cum on my cock.”

You couldn’t say no to him. You rolled your hips against his cock once more and you were cumming hard, again. You gripped his arms as you arched your back, screaming out his name. He let out a guttural moan beneath you, stilling your hips so he could spill deep inside you. Once the waved crashed, you flopped down onto his chest, panting. He ran a soothing hand up and down you back, not making an effort to pull his softening cock out of you.

“Did you like that, baby girl?”

You sighed, nodding. “Yeah. No one’s made me cum like that before. Thank you, daddy.”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating in your ear as you laid on his chest. “Of course, baby. I told you I know how to treat a woman right.”

You snuggled against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. His cock sat perfectly comfortable inside you, still filling you as your walls fluttered around it. The sound of his steady heartbeat and his hand tracing soothing circles on your back slowly lulled you into a deep sleep.

---

You awoke to a heat building low in your core, sighing softly at the prickling of stubble against your inner thigh. Lips wrapped around your clit and suckled it, and you moaned, fully awakening. You blinked down to your legs, arching your back as two fingers thrust into you, crying out, your voice raspy from sleep.

Cobb grinned at you from between your thighs. His beard was already soaked with your juices. He lapped intently at your nub, his fingers curling inside you to brush against your sensitive spot. Your legs shook as you came, too tired to last any longer, and weakened by his ministrations from last night.

You lay panting, melting into his sheets as he kissed his way up your body to loom over you. His grin was mischievous as he looked down at your blissed-out form.

“Mornin’ baby,” he said, kissing you. “Did you enjoy breakfast in bed?”

You sighed against his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue, nodding. “Was a nice surprise,” you mumbled.

He laughed and kissed you again, flopping down beside you and pulling you to his chest. “Did you really enjoy last night?” he asked, kissing your nose.

You sighed again, nodding. The pleasant ache between your thighs was evidence of that. You’d enjoyed your time with him, eagerly awaiting to wake up next to him and not leaving after the deed was done—much too soon. It was better than any dream you’d ever had. The morning session was a nice bonus. “I did. And I’d like to continue this if…?” You let your question hang in the air, not sure if he felt the same as you.

“I’d love to, baby,” he murmured, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I get awfully lonely here by myself. I could use the company. We don’t have to continue the specifics of last night—.”

“Oh, no, I liked that,” you interrupted. “Daddy.”

He grinned again, his eyes darkening with lust, and he tilted your chin up with his hand to kiss you deeply. You pressed yourself more against his body, feeling his cock prodding at your stomach. He broke the kiss with a groan as you threaded your hands through his hair. He brought one of your legs over his hip, pressing you against the bed.

“Good thing I have a few more surprises up my sleeve.”

[anxious-allie-ren]

Miscalculation

Hey cuties! So, I have started writing fanfiction! I have been posting on both AO3 and Wattpad. Both links are in my linktree in my bio! But, I’d like to share my first one-shot here. Let me know what you all think!

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Let's be honest, The Finalizer is boring.

Not a, "Oh, it's a calm day with nothing to do, kind of boring." But more like, "I'm trapped on a steel death ship in the vacuum less mass of space" kind of boring.

Okay maybe that's because you are trapped. You have been trapped for what feels like months. In reality, it's been a few weeks and you're really close to going insane.

It was a small error that landed you here. A tiny miscalculation that landed you on the path of Snoke's little apprentice. Should you have double checked to make sure you had enough fuel to get back to D'Qar? Yes. Did you? No. Instead you waste your credits on some shitty fried food at the docking station on Coruscant and take off. This leaves you stranded on Jakku. Luck was clearly on your side that day because this was the exact day Snoke's dog sent his bitches out on a mission. There you are, in your X-Wing with what seems like the biggest bullseye on you.

It doesn't take them long to sniff you out. You're ripped out of the cockpit by a knight in an all black mask with long shields placed on either side. The knight drops you to the ground and you can immediately see you're outnumbered. Six large armored men have circled you. Okay, so the blaster you're pointing at the one who man-handled you probably wasn't going to do shit. But that doesn't stop you from holding your ground.

"I am not afraid to shoot. I will blast you all right now."

This earns a chuckle from the group. That first knight speaks up.

"You're stranded on this sand pile with no fuel. I doubt you have enough plasma to shoot half of us."

You huff at his comment but stand your ground, keeping the blaster pointed at him.

"Trudgen, just grab her and let's get back to the mission. Master can decide what to do with her."

You take note of that fucker's name as two of the other knights haul you up by your arms roughly. You're dragged to the ugliest ship you've ever seen in your life and thrown in a dingy compartment.

"We'll be back rebel scum. Don't try anything." Trudgen said as he placed your blaster on his belt. Not like he has enough weapons strapped to his body or anything. You roll your eyes and try to sit in a spot that isn't covered in dust.

"No promises."

And that's how you ended up on the Finalizer. You made the journey here hell for the knights. You did eventually learn the rest of their names after eavesdropping on their conversations. When you arrived Vicrul and Ap'lek placed your hands in binders and led you to an interrogation room. After you were strapped into the interrogation chair the knights made their way to leave.

"Uh, excuse me? Where the fuck are you guys going? You can't just strapped me in to this stupid chair, way too tightly might I add, and then leave without saying anything!"

Vicrul and Ap'lek share a look and then turn towards you.

"We aren't the ones interrogating you, scum. Master is interested in you." Vicrul says, shrugging his shoulders.

"I have no idea why. Not much to be interested in." Ap'lek mutters as he turns to leave again.

You rolled your eyes as both knights leave the room. So you would be getting the honor of meeting Snoke's apprentice. Wonderful. From what you learned being in the Resistance, Kylo Ren was an overgrown toddler with a laser sword. So the likelihood of you coming out of this interrogation alive was small.

You probably sit strapped to that stupid chair for hours before Commander Ren decides to stroll on in. He comes through the door swiftly, feet pounding on the ground loudly. He stops in front of you and gives you a quick once-over. The mask finally meets your eyes.

"Are we just going to stare at each other? Or are we going to get this over with?"

Kylo ball his hands into fists and begins to circle the interrogation chair.

"I don't think you are in any position to ask questions right now. What were you doing on Jakku?"

"Your little boy band didn't fill you in already? I got stranded on that shitty planet. Didn't exactly go there by choice."

He stops in front of you again.

"And why did you get stranded?"

You immediately think back to your little error. You feel even more stupid looking back on it. Admitting to it is not something you were looking to do right now. What the fuck was the point of this? Was he really just going to ask you trivial questions? You figured Snoke would have taught him better than this if he's really so powerful.

Kylo leans down quickly, grabbing the sides of the chair by your head. The sudden movement makes you jump, wrists smacking against the restraints.

"I can hear all of your thoughts. It would be wise to watch what you think. Now answer the question."

Of course he can hear your thoughts. He's a fucking force user. Rookie mistake on your part really. But the idea of him actually hearing every thought you think does unnerve you.

"I ran out of fuel. Had to make an emergency landing, okay? Is that answer good enough for you?"

Kylo finally leans back up. He stares down at you and even though he's wearing that stupid fucking mask you can just tell he's got a judgemental look on his face.

"What kind of pilot runs out of fuel?"

You begin to argue back but he stops you.

"Not a very good one. A good pilot would have checked that they had enough fuel to get to their next destination. A good pilot wouldn't have spent all of their credits."

"Listen you fu-"

"A good pilot would have landed near a fueling station, not in the middle of nowhere. But I guess that's my point. You aren't a good pilot. Another useless member of the Resistance. So breaking you down is going to be easier than I thought."

All you could do was stare at him. He read your thoughts. He already knew everything. He wanted to embarrass you, make you feel small. It worked for a second. But if you were going to die today, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing your embarrassment.

You square your jaw and look right into the eyes of his mask.

"That's where you're wrong, buddy."

Kylo leans down so his mouthpiece is by your ear and whispers, "We'll see about that, little one."

He stands back up and stomps out of the room quickly. Leaving you feeling shocked, angry, and oddly aroused.

____________________________

So to everyone's surprise you did not die that day. Instead Kylo had you placed in a cell and that's where you've been for weeks. Stormtroopers come and feed you or take you to a refresher to bathe. Commander Ren has stopped by a few times since your original meeting. Nothing much has come of those ones either. Mostly him staring at you and asking trivial questions. Which just agitates you.

You can't seem to figure him out. He hasn't asked anything regarding the Resistance. What is the point of keeping you prisoner if he isn't going to get any useful information from you? It doesn't sit well with you.

When he doesn't visit you're left alone. Staring at the same four walls does get boring eventually. You've taken to sitting near the door and trying to listen to the stormtroopers conversations. Sometimes bucket heads spill some interesting tea. You learned last week that General Hux once got a boner after getting choked by the Commander.

That's what you're doing currently. Listening to the chatter when you suddenly hear the distinct pounding of boots. The last you knew, the Commander was away on a mission with the knights. As the footsteps draw closer you move quickly to your feet and back away from the door. Kylo strides through the door, chest heaving and fists clenched. You can feel the anger rolling off of him. So you're guessing his little adventure didn't go so well.

His hand flies up quickly, using the force to choke you.

"How many times do I have to tell you to watch your thoughts?"

Okay, so he heard you. You really gotta work on monitoring that. Wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of a toddler tantrum.

Just as the thought crosses your mind you're dragged across the floor towards Kylo. Your toes just barely touching the ground as you move. His hand wraps around your throat and he leans his masked face down into your own.

"I've given you far too many warnings. Now you're going to be punished."

Your eyes go wide as you look up into the soulless mask. This is it. This is where you die. You're going to die at the hands of this fucker and even worse, you're turned on.

Kylo spins you around and pins you to the wall. He kicks your feet apart using his boot, shoving his knee between your legs. You feel his thigh rub against your core. It takes all your self control to stop yourself from grinding down on it. He can feel the arousal pouring from your body.

He pulls his hand from your neck and leans back.

"I'm afraid you're enjoying this too much, little one."

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, to no prevail of course. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest. But the anger from this whole situation has begun to build. You're sick and tired of being in this cell. You're enraged by his trivial fucking questioning. And now, he's teasing you. You've had enough of it. You are not going to be his toy.

"I'm not enjoying anything. Im stuck in this stupid cell guarded by bucket heads. You've done nothing but ask me useless fucking questions. What is the point of this? Why keep me around if I have no use?"

You watch as he reaches up quickly and yanks the mask off. You weren't sure what you were expecting. But it wasn't that. When you imagined the Commander of the First Order, you pictured some burnt deformed old man. Not a hot ass guy with perfect fucking hair.

He throws the mask off to the side and glares down at you.

"You've certainly got a use and now you're going to fulfill it."

Suddenly, you feel the most glorious swirling against your clit. You gasp and try to squirm away from him. He pins you harder against the wall and begins kissing up your neck. You begin to feel the pressure building just as he starts to remove your shirt.

"Fuck, I don't know what you're doing. But don't stop." You pant out.

Just as the words leave your mouth the swirling stops.

"What the actual fuck?"

"You didn't think I'd just let you cum, did you? This is a punishment."

That is the final straw. You were so close to ecstasy. So close to release. You have had enough of this little twat. You collect yourself and use all the strength you can to push him away from you.

"Enough fucking games. I'm not some toy to be played with. Either show me the reason I'm still here or kill me already!"

Commander Ren is quick. If you weren't aware of his position, you'd think he was a bounty hunter with how fast he can move. So fast in fact, that he has you pinned face down on your shitty cot before you can think. You're bent over with your hands held in his fist behind you. You try to squirm but only end up grinding your ass back into him. Either that's his lightsaber or he's really excited to see you.

"Who is the general of the Resistance?"

The question catches you off guard. Why the fuck is he asking you his trivial questions now? Of all fucking times. He certainly knows the answer to this one, so what's the point of this?

You must have been stuck in your thoughts for too long, because a strong slap comes across your left ass cheek. The sound echoes throughout the tiny cell and you're certain the stormtroopers outside heard it.

"Answer the question."

"Uh, General Organa. She's your mom, right?"

Stupid response. He grabs a fist full of your hair and yanks your head back. He growls in your ear, "I would advise you shut the fuck up. Stop being a little brat and cooperate or this will only get worse."

Kylo releases your hair and holds you down with the force. He yanks down your pants, revealing your slick soaked panties to the room. Kylo looks down and smirks.

"You're drenched. Bent over and pussy wet for the enemy. What kind of pilot would do that?"

He lands another hard slap to your right cheek this time. Giving it a small kneed afterwards.

"Oh that's right. Not a very good one."

You try to move against the force hold but it's no use. He's got the upper hand here. But you're not going to let him degrade you like that.

"That's rich coming from Snoke's little bitch."

His fist is back in your hair and his other grabs your hip, pulling you back against him. He grinds himself into you and groans out, "You're going to regret that, little one."

Kylo pulls himself away enough to pull down your panties. You feel his gloved finger glide through your slick down to your bundle of nerves. You gasp and wiggle your hips back towards him trying to gain more friction.

"What is your squadron?"

Not this bullshit again. He's playing with your pussy and asking you these dumbass questions? He pulls his hand away and lands a slap to your pussy, causing your legs to shake.

"I hate repeating myself, so answer the fucking question."

Your head is spinning and your pussy is clenching around nothing. You have no clue what the point of these questions are but you'll do anything to get him to touch you again.

"Blue Squadron! Fuck."

Kylo's hand comes back to you, this time bare. He begins rubbing slow circles around your nub, applying the perfect amount of pressure.

"Now that's a good girl. Keep answering your Commander and you'll get rewarded."

"You're not my fucking commander." You gasp as he inserts two thick fingers into your needy hole. "My commander is Poe Dameron."

You realize what you've said after it's too late. It's not exactly classified information. But it's certainly not something you should be sharing with the enemy. You've got to get it together if you're going to make it through this little visit.

"Dameron, hm? Interesting."

You hear the sound of his belt buckle and zipper coming undone. He releases his long, girthy cock from the confines of his pants. It lands on your ass as Kylo grabs hold of both your hips.

"Are you ready for your punishment? I'm going to destroy this little cunt."

You arch your back, pushing your ass up. "I really doubt that. But you can try."

With our warning, Kylo buries his whole length in your wet heat. You gasp as he knocks the air out of your lungs, taking you by surprise. He begins thrusting into you at a slow pace, taking his time. You can feel every glorious inch of him, from tip to hilt.

You moan out and wiggle your hips, trying to get him to speed up. "If you're going to punish me, you'll have to try harder than this."

He snarls at your comment, squeezing your hips and picking up the pace. The little cell is filled with the sounds of your breathy moans, his grunts, and skin slapping. You get so lost in the pleasure you nearly miss him speaking to you.

"Where is the Resistance base?"

You almost answer. You almost let that information slide, forgetting where you are and whose cock is buried inside you. But then it all clicks. He's trying to distract you for information. Nice fucking try Commander Cunt.

"Fuck off."

Kylo grunts and releases one of your hips to instead grab a fistful of your hand. He yanks your head back and forces your back to arch further, making his cock reach deeper inside your pussy. Kylo begins pounding into you, each thrust hitting your sweet spot.

"Where the fuck is the Resistance base?"

Your moans are loud at this point. You couldn't care less about the stormtroopers outside hearing you. This all feels too good. But you aren't going to give in to him this easy. The resistance is counting on you. You are not some weak pilot that gives in to this moody bitch.

"Fuck. Off." You moan out in response.

Kylo's other hand leaves your hip and snakes down your front. He begins rubbing fast circles against your clit. You scream as you feel the pressure beginning to build again.

"Tell me where the fucking base is, pet."

You scream out in pleasure and frustration. You're so close. Just teetering on the edge. You so badly want to let go. So you crack.

"Fuck! Fine! D'Qar! The resistance base is on D'Qar! Please just let me come! Please!"

Kylo smirks, knowing he's won. He picks up the pace on your clit and groans out, "That's right, now be a good girl and cum all over my cock."

That was all you needed. You screamed in ecstasy, "Yes, fuck Kylo!"

Your pussy clenched around him as you came, your juices covering him. Kylo grunted, fucking you through your orgasm.

Soon after you came down from your high, you felt his cock twitch inside you. Kylo quickly pulled out of you and yanked you up by your hair.

"On your knees and mouth open, rebel bitch."

You quickly dropped to your knees and did just as he said, closing your eyes. Kylo pumped his cock over your face, using your slick and cum as lube. He threw his head back and let out a feral groan. Strings of his milky seed covering your face.

Once he was finished, you swallow what had gotten in your mouth and began wiping the rest off your face, licking it from your fingers. Fuck he tastes delicious. When you could finally open your eyes, he was already by the door. He had tucked himself away and put his glove back on. Kylo grabbed his helmet and looked back at you.

"Just as I thought. You're a useless Resistance member. So easy to destroy."

You sit there stunned by his words, letting everything that had just happened sink in.

"It has been fun breaking you, little one."

With one last look, Kylo places his helmet back on his head and walks out of the cell.

You stare at the door and replay his words. Maybe you were a shitty Resistance member. Others probably wouldn't have broken that easily, or at all. But with some of his cum drying on your face and a satisfied feeling, you can't find it in you to care.

You're secretly hoping Commander Ren needs more information. You might come to enjoy his little visits.

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

I hope everyone enjoyed! If you all are interested, I can post on here more. Let me know! 

[crystalessenceswrites]

Heyyy I wanted to submit a f!reader x commander wolffe request. I was wondering if you could do #18 ("Are you wearing my shirt?") and #13 ("Touch yourself for me.") from your smut prompt list (or one or the other or both in one fic ahah srry if its a lot to ask)? Anyways, I love your work thanksss~

Thank you lovely!! Means a lot to hear folks are enjoying my writing!! Two prompts is totally fine and thanks for these two, they worked really well together. I hope you enjoy!

Sorry for the wait on the follower celebration requests all, writers block decided to hit at the worst possible time.

Commander Wolffe x fem!reader Rating: E (18+) Warnings: explicit sexual content, masturbation, fingering, very light d/s tones, praise kink if you squint, Wolffe is a smug ass

Another cycle another credit. Well, that would be the case if any of you were getting paid for fighting in this Maker forsaken war. Instead, you and the rest of the Order traversed the battlefields in the name of peace, surrounded by men born and bred to fight and die for the Republic. The harsh reality of it all was beginning to rub you raw, leaving you with a pounding headache as you stalk away from the bridge. Anger. Frustration. Desperation. Emotions not befitting of a jedi. Emotions that leave you reeling.

It is automatic. Returning to your own quarters does not even cross your mind. You find yourself keying in the code to your commanders’ quarters through muscle memory. The one place in the universe where you can find solace these days with the one person who understands. Your mood drops a little more when you find the small space empty. He had left the debrief on the bridge before you, so you’d assumed he’d be waiting. You’d seen the recognition flash in his golden eye during the meeting, he well knew what kind of mood had settled over you. Hopefully, he wouldn’t leave you alone for too long.

With a sigh you start to shed your layers across the small space. Boots at the foot of his bunk. Plastoid bracers on the desk next to his neatly stacked holopads. Robes over the back of the chair. Clones don’t truly own anything but what Wolffe did have to call his own was always well kept. Armor cleaned and polished after every mission. Blasters maintained at the end of the day. His greys hang perfectly pressed in the closet, just in case. His two extra pairs of blacks folded with an unnatural precision. A precision you promptly destroy when you go digging though his trunk. Even after an industrial wash cycle his shirts still smells like him. If you could not have him right now, his clothes would have to suffice.

The oversized article does soothe some of the raging storm in your head. Climbing into his bunk you try to let the silence lull you into something akin to meditation, a half-hearted attempt to sort through your emotions like they taught you back at the temple. It was so much simpler back then without the future of the galaxy hanging in the balance. Before you considered breaking every rule for him. Maker how your world had flipped upside down since this war started.

Lost in your mind you do not catch the hiss of the door sliding open or the heavy footsteps cross the small room. The deep rumbling voice though, that snaps everything into place.

“Mesh’la, are you wearing my shirt?”

You’re not sure why he asks, there’s no denying it when you’re sitting in his bunk in nothing but his shirt and your underthings. Wide-eyed you nod up at him, toying with the hem resting across your thighs.

“Stealing my things now, cyare?”

Well, you would not call it that, “borrowing.”

The corner of his lip quirks up as his gaze stays pinned on you. It was nice to see him in such a good mood. Hopefully it would rub off. “For some reason I don’t believe you,” he chuckles.

You pout, though Wolffe is not fazed in the slightest. Not that a big lip and doe-eyes ever fazed him. He could be as stoic as he needed to be when he was in the mood to tease. And judging by the smirk growing on his lips he was more than in the mood.

“Tell me, cyare, why exactly are you “borrowing” my shirt?” setting down his bucket he pulls a chair up so he’s sitting across from you, eye trained on your curled up figure.

“I missed you.”

He flashes that smirk again, “oh really?”

You nod, watching him grow smug.

“Then why don’t you show me how much you missed me? Touch yourself for me.”

Heat rushes over you at Wolffe’s command. The things this man could do to you with a few words and a look. Biting your lip, one hand drags down your stomach, a small attempt to tease the commander for a moment as you toy with the hem of your panties.

Wolffe grunts and holds out his hand, “give them here.”

With another doe-eyed nod you slide the damp garment off, placing it in his waiting grasp.

“Good girl. Now show me that pretty pussy, cyare.”

Shifting back so you’re leaning against the wall you spread your legs wide, giving Wolffe an unobstructed view of you now sopping slit. His unabashed groan sends shivers down your spine.

“Go on, touch yourself for me.”

He does not have to tell you twice. With one hand you drag your fingers through your folds, coming up to circle your pearl. With the other you paw at your chest through his blacks, twisting and pinching your nipples just like Wolffe liked to do. It does not take long for the coil to build deep in your core. Wolffe’s heated gaze only turns you on that much more. He follows every movement, every gasp that falls from your lips, every touch that has you squirming under your own ministrations. Slipping one finger, then two, into your aching hole has him humming in quiet appreciation. Your head falls back against the wall as you reach so desperately for that spot to relieve the pressure.

“What’s wrong, cyare?” he smirks, leaning forward as if he needs a better vantage to watch you whimper from, “can’t cum?”

No, you can’t. Your fingers have nothing on his thick digits. No matter how you try you cannot seem to fill yourself the way he does. “Please, Wolffe. In need you.”

His grin is downright feral as he stalks towards the bed. With one swift movement the clone has you pinned beneath him; legs spread as he swats your hand away. Without preamble he plunges two fingers as deep as he can reach while his thumb attacks your clit. Everything about his touch is overwhelming and you gladly surrender, mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he brushes up against the spot you’d been so desperate to find.

“Look at you, mesh’la,” he murmurs, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, “so greedy for my fingers. Taking me so deep.”

“Oh fuck, Wolffe!”

His mouth trails hot and heavy down the column of your throat, nipping and kissing the soft skin as he continues to wreck you with his fingers. You’re helpless to do anything but grip onto his shoulder, nails digging into scarred skin as you pant and writhe beneath him.

“Think you can take another, cyare?”

The thought alone has you whimpering for him. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl,” he growls, adding a third digit at your weeping entrance.

The stretch alone sends you straight to the edge, the coil in your belly ready to snap and plumet you into bliss. “Wolffe- I’m gonna-”

“Do it,” he presses all three fingers against the spongy spot inside you with a come-hither motion, finally breaking the damn, “cum all over my fingers, ner jetii.”

White hot pleasure rolls over you in wave after wave as you flutter around his fingers. Wolffe doesn’t pause for a moment, continuing his thrust as you ride out the high. Always relentless in prolonging your pleasure. He does not pull away until you’re boneless and speechless.

“That wouldn’t have anything to do with why you missed me, now would it?”

Smug bastard. Rolling your eyes, you attempt to squirm away from his hold.

“Ah ah-” Wolffe clicks his tongue, refusing to let you escape- “I still gotta show you how much I missed you, cyare.”

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- 9a

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 2177

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: Ok so I started to write this and then had to go back to edit it and then I added more and then it was all just angst and it was just getting so long and I couldn’t fix it. ANYWHO, the Halloween special will now be two parts. I’m really hoping it won’t be three but we shall have to wait and see. 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! Please be safe out there! 

Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

Loki refrained from groaning as he stepped into the jet that would take them back to the Tower. Sam and Bucky were fighting over the pilot seat while Wanda was chattering loudly about the costume she had managed to find for herself and Vision. Loki catches your eye and he can tell you wish to speak to him. He doesn’t allow you the chance as he storms out of the seating area in preference of the solitude found in the back. 

The quinjet finally sets out of the compound and Loki manages to survive the short ride without being pulled into whatever conversation you wish to have with him. You most likely wanted to know the truth behind what you had revealed previously. An answer he would refuse to give you. 

Loki is almost cornered by you in the arrival at the tower but by sheer luck, you are called away by the AI allowing Loki to peacefully make his way down to his residential floor. The peace he had in mind at the return of his familiar abode is disrupted at the sight of Thor waiting for him there. 

Loki’s annoyance grows at the sight of his brother regaled in his Asgardian armor swinging Mjolnir with ease. 

“Welcome back, brother.” 

Loki just grunts in response as he tries to maneuver around the big oaf. 

“I went ahead and prepared your armor for the party tonight,” Thor continues with a smile. “It should be a merry night full of drinking and dancing. We should thoroughly enjoy it.” 

“I’m not going to that party.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I refuse to partake in Midgardian celebrations.” 

“I would think you would enjoy this one, Loki. It’s all about mischief and magic.” 

Loki rubs his eyes tiredly. 

“I am quite tired, brother. I am in no mood for festivities.”

“You never are,” Thor states, forcing Loki to stop right outside his bedroom door. “You always hide out here and avoid having any fun. You’ve been here for months, Loki, and you have failed to participate in any way or form to enjoy humanity.”

“I hate this place,” Loki responds. “Why would I try to find some silver lining?” 

“If that is the case then perhaps I should report to father that you have made no progress and have you sent back home.”

That definitely deepens the foul mood Loki was already in.  

“If I go to this party will you refrain from reporting to father?” 

Thor thinks for a few seconds before relenting.

“Yes, I would.” 

“Great, good,” Loki mutters as he slips into the darkness of his room. “I’m not wearing my armor though.” 

“Then what will you wear?” 

Loki doesn’t respond promptly slamming the door closed to Thor’s face. 

The lab was as pristine and proper as the day before you had come in and destroyed it. The wall had been repaired and the equipment that had been easily thrown before was now bolted to the ground. You let out a sigh as you try to forget that dark moment of your life when you had turned against your friends for no reason. 

You still couldn’t remember what happened but it still shook you to the very core. The truth was something everyone valued and yet you had overlooked the darkness it could truly hold. Lying didn’t seem so bad now and you miss having the simple ability. 

Shaking yourself from that thought, you scanned the rest of the room looking for the man of the hour. 

The moment the jet landed at the tower you were promptly told by FRIDAY that Tony requested your presence in the lab. 

You tried to make a quick stop towards the Asgardian floor but the AI had overlooked your floor request in preference of following its creator’s demand. 

The lab remained silent after you came in. FRIDAY had announced your presence but Tony was nowhere to be seen. You felt yourself being watched but could find no one. You were starting to grow paranoid which didn’t help when a loud bang resonated nearby.

Your head snaps towards the source of the crash and you relax when you realize it’s just Dum-E hitting against the nearby desk.

“Oh Dum-E, I thought I was…”

“BOO!” 

You jump at the sudden shout behind you. Out of pure instinct, you throw your hands in front of you causing your gauntlets to shoot out two straight lines of energy. The beams scorch two black spots on the recently repaired wall.

“Well that’s new.” 

You turn around and glare at Tony. 

“What the hell, Tony!” you shout at him. “I could have killed you.” 

Tony chuckles in response and is quick to apologize. 

“Sorry, kid,” he answers. “Didn’t realize you were Iron Man 2.0.” 

You roll your eyes at him and laugh sarcastically at him. 

“Ha, ha, ha, very funny,” you joke. “These things are the only reason I have some semblance of control.” 

“Let me see them.” 

You raise your hands and show him the golden gauntlets. 

“Interesting design,” he mutters as he grabs a hold of them, turning them around back and forth. “I’m assuming the stones are important by their placement. I wonder what they’re made of. Carbon-based, maybe? Rare space jewel? I would have to run some tests…”

“Yeah, not possible,” you comment. “I can’t take these off. Things could go very wrong.” 

Tony scowls as he lets your hands go. 

“Can’t risk it for a few minutes?” Tony asks. “I’m sure I could improve them for a nicer aesthetic and easier mobility.” 

“Tony…”

“Come on,” he nudges. “You don’t see me wearing my blasters because they’re comfortable. It’ll only be a few minutes. Five tops.” 

You hesitate and Tony pesters on.  

“Let me do this for you. It’s the least I can do if you have to wear those atrocities for the rest of your life.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek before relenting. 

“Just be careful with the stones and be quick, please,” you plead at him. “I don’t wish to have a repeat of my last mishaps.” 

Tony snorts as he helps you slide the gauntlets off your hands. 

“Heard about that,” he snickers. “A little birdie told me and by birdie, I obviously mean Sam.” 

You laugh and shake your head at him watching as he steps towards his desk and pulls out an array of files into the screen. He flips through them quickly before stopping at one. 

Pepper Gift Ideas. 

“Um, Tony?” 

He ignores you as he opens the file up and scatters out the multiple designs he’s sketched out. You’re shocked at the multiple documents in the file but don’t have the chance to inspect them closely as Tony finds the one he was looking for. 

“Here it is,” he states as he picks the design and throws it onto the screen next to his equipment. “What do you think, kid?” 

“Oh, wow,” you whisper as you look at the design on display. “That’s beautiful.” 

“Was tinkering for a while about making Pepper her own jewelry,” Tony responds beside you. “But she never wears what I get her.” 

“I’m sure she would wear this,” you tell him. “Are you sure you want to use this design on me?” 

Tony is quick to nod. 

“You’ve been dealt a shitty hand with this power,” Tony answers honestly. “I just want to make things better for you in any way I can.” 

“Thanks, Tony,” you tell him, heartfelt at his generosity. “Really, thank you.” 

Tony clears his throat from the rising emotion and looks away. He picks up your gauntlet and begins to disassemble them. 

“Now go away,” he mutters. “Let me work in peace.” 

“You told me it would only be five minutes.” 

“Well I lied. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.” 

You roll your eyes at him and Tony simply smirks. 

“I’ll have them done soon, I promise, so why don’t you go ahead and find your partner in crime, Natasha. She’s got your costume in her room.” 

You hesitate but you’ve already done your daily exercises to tire your powers out. Nothing could go wrong. Or at least that’s what you hoped for. 

You wince at the sharp tug of your hair. You glare at Natasha through the mirror but she simply smirks in response. You had no choice when it came to getting ready for this impromptu Halloween party. Natasha dragged you into her room the moment you showed up at her door. 

You didn’t mind her help for the party. In fact, you were glad to have it as the redhead went above and beyond to have everything ready for you. From the costume to the hair and makeup, Natasha had arranged it all. All you had to do was sit there and allow her to make her vision into a reality. 

Though you would use this time to catch up with your close friend, your mind was far away at the moment. 

Ever since your last lesson, Loki had avoided you like the plague. Any attempt of trying to apologize to him was somehow thwarted by Loki himself or some outside force. It didn’t help that Tony’s impromptu invitation and the jet that followed severed any chance of forcing him to see you. 

You felt guilty.

You had crossed a line by revealing something he wasn’t ready to when all he had done was help you. You needed to apologize and you needed to do it soon. 

“Ok, spill it.” 

You look up at Natasha’s pointed stare and sigh. 

“I can’t hide anything, can I?” you mutter tiredly. Nat tugs on your hair again and you hiss at the action. “I’m fine, Nat. Just trying to settle my mind.”

“Of what?” 

You take a deep breath debating whether it was a good idea to tell her of your past week with Loki. 

Nat despised him with every fiber of her being, but you… you didn’t. 

“Loki’s been a great teacher considering I’m a ticking time bomb...”  

“But?” Nat interrupts. 

“But,” you repeat with a huff. “I keep ruining everything with this stupid power.”

“You?” Nat asks, confused. “You ruined everything? Not him?”

“Nat…” 

“I’m sorry,” she sarcastically laughs. “That doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“You don’t understand,” you sigh. “If you just let me explain…”

“Then explain.” 

You take a deep breath and turn away from the mirror to look at Natasha directly. 

“I have invaded everyone’s privacy. I’ve learned things I have no right knowing and revealed things without permission. You already know how guilty I felt because of it,” you explain. “Yet, Loki wasn’t one of them. He’s immune to my power as I am to his but I recently crossed a line and uncovered something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“What was it?” 

“You know I can’t tell you.” 

 Natasha huffs in response but shrugs her curiosity off. 

“So?” she asks. “What’s wrong then?” 

“I feel really bad about it, Nat, and he’s avoiding me and I just want to apologize to him because I invaded his privacy but he won’t even let me get close to him to do it.”

“He doesn’t need an apology,” Nat scoffs. “He’s a grown man. He can lick up his wounds and move on.” 

You’re starting to regret confiding in her about your situation but Loki has yet to teach you how to evade telling the truth without necessarily resorting to lying.

“I apologized to you and everyone after my first outburst,” you remind her. “You didn’t need me to but I’m sure it helped.”

Natasha lets out a breath but she knew you had a point. 

“Loki doesn’t deserve your kindness.” 

She’s being honest with her opinion but you don’t feel the same way. 

“I think differently,” you answer. “I think it’s been a long time since Loki’s been treated with some kindness.” 

Natasha's eyes narrow down at you. 

“Do you…” she hesitates. “What exactly is your relationship with him?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Are you acquaintances? Friends? Or is it more?” 

You’re surprised at the question. 

“I guess we’re friends?” you answer unsurely. “Mentor and student seems weird so yeah… friends.” 

Natasha seems unconvinced but she doesn’t speak up on it. Instead, she motions you to face forward again so she could finish up with your hair.

“So do you think I’ll have time to slip out to apologize or am I going to have to wait until the party?” 

Nat can’t avoid the snort from escaping her promptly earning her a confused look from you. 

“Loki doesn’t go to the parties,” she tells you. “Not since I could remember.” 

“Then why did he come with us in the jet?” 

“Maybe because he has to monitor you and we have to monitor him?” 

Nat’s right but you can only hope that Loki might prove her wrong. 

“If he’s there… apologize to him,” Nat tells you hoping to ease the scowl that was settling on your face. “Just don’t expect him to forgive you. He’s not apologetic, far less forgiving.”

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @ariel-snow-tmnt @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck @country-cowgirl-101 @bepo-is-sorry @hufflautia @waitforthehurricanrose @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @sanniegirl1214 @telenari @anonymouscastiel12 @ddaeing​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox @heykathchuu​

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @ariel-snow-tmnt @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart

[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 7

Maul x Sith Reader 

Word Count: 3.3K

WARNINGS: 18+ Mentions of injuries, slightly jealous Maul, Unprotected sex, Inappropriate use of the force, force bond, self-deprecation

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      Your eyes didn't open right away. You could faintly hear Savage speaking with who sounded like a woman through a voice coder.

"She was much worse off than you two despite your loss of limbs. Cybernetics are easy but her oxygen was dangerously low. Her core temperature being lower than yours caused the hypothermia to be more extensive. We don’t have a bacta tank to drop her into. Hopefully the concentrated salve will do enough for her."

"When is she going to wake up?" Savage rumbled.

"I don't know big guy. I'm a medic not a fortune teller. All I can tell you is that she's alive... for now."

    It sounded like another presence entered the area and you recognized Maul's velvety rasp. One of his steps produced a light clinking sound.

"She will wake soon. Her mind is lighting up more than it has in the last two days."

Two days?! Oh fuck no.

    You groaned quietly hating the idea of being the weakest link in a chain of three. You practically forced your eyes open and hissed at the fluorescent lighting. Your muscles were stiff but you forced them to bend to your will and sit up.

"Whoa whoa whoa slow down there..." the female medic ran over to you clad in armor you recognized it instantly from the holo-net news.

"What are we doing with a Mandalorian?" You tensed as she checked your bandages and scanned you. Your eyes narrowed at Savage's new cybernetic appendage; memories of the last time you had seen them came flooding back. He was the one to answer you.

"They found our pod floating in space. Turns out they hate the jedi so we've allied ourselves with them. Maul has been negotiating with their leader while you’ve been healing." Say what you want about Savage but the man could summarize.

"Okay..." head still swimming it was difficult to take everything in. Pirates didn't work out but now Mandalorians are going to work with you? You're just along for the ride at this point.

    Maul had stayed a distance away from you with his hands clasped behind his back watching you intently. Turning his attention to the medic he hissed.

"Leave us so we may properly convey the details of our arrangement with my apprentice."

    Not daring argue with the Zabrak the woman stood and hurried out of the tent. Not daring to meet Maul's eyes as he watched her leave. He closed his eyes for a moment as if to reach out and ensure no one was around other than the three of you. Once he was satisfied with his assessment he strode to your side and immediately softened. He trailed his fingers down your face gently and pressed a tender, passionate kiss to your lips.

"I thought I had lost you twice over. First to those damned pirates and Kenobi, then to the unforgiving confines of the galaxy itself." He paused for a moment, staring seemingly into your soul while Savage shifted on his feet not knowing where to look. He never imagined his brother could behave like this before.

"Alas, the force works in mysterious ways. We have found powerful allies but I don't trust them. They can't know what it is you are to me. I will not give them tinder to light."

You nodded in understanding.

"So, what's the plan?"

    Maul took a step back and thought for a moment. Despite his care for you it was difficult to overcome a life of betrayal and deception. He quickly pushed these thoughts from his mind when he looked back to you. He took a seat on your cot and you could feel the cool metal of his new leg against your own.

"First, we must amass a larger army. Once we have their loyalty, we will aid the Death Watch in overthrowing the current ruler of Mandalore. After Vizsla takes the throne I am confident that he will bend to my desires one way or another. This group has much to offer, including a planet and they have no idea of our true intentions."

Your eyes lit up both with adoration and with excitement at the events to unfold.

"Yes Master, just tell me what to do."

"Can you stand?"

    You wiggled your legs although still sore from where you were shot, the bacta shots and salves had taken care of most of the damage.

"Come then, you must meet the leader of this clan."

    You rose to your feet and straightened your back with your head held high. You force pulled your sabers from a nearby table and hung them from your hips. Maul admired you as you made your way out of the tent. He silently wished he could've guided you out by your hand but again, he couldn't let them know how important you were to him; to everything. Instead, he settled for you walking on his right slightly behind him, Savage to his left as he led you both to the largest tent in the camp.

    Several Mandalorians casually sat at the tables laughing, eating and drinking while the leader sat at the head only a few guards were posted to your surprise. He was obviously distracted by something his second in command was saying. She was a slight woman, shoulder length red hair and a sneer plastered across her face that only deepened when her eyes fell on you.

"Someone's finally awake." She smirked.

"Awake indeed..." you trailed off meeting her eye contact unblinking until she scoffed and looked away. Your eyes gleamed in satisfaction and your gold eclipse swelled slightly, feeding off of her disdain. Savage stifled a chuckle. The only person you bowed to in any sense of the word was Maul. Anyone else you would make kneel before you and this attitude permeated in any room you entered.

    Your eyes shifted to the leader. He was tall, bald headed and was currently sizing you up with a satisfied look on his face.

"So, the dead rises on our moon." He stood and made his way over to the three of you.

"Only on momentous occasions. I believe I owe you my thanks for that."

    He took your hand in his leather gloved one and pressed his lips to your knuckles, trying to hide a disgusted look on your face you humored him.

"Pre Vizsla, leader of the Death Watch, future ruler of Mandalore." He introduced. An almost inaudible growl rumbled in Maul's chest. Almost inaudible.

"Y/N, apprentice to the great Sith Lord Maul,” you responded coldly.

"Well, we are happy to welcome you to our camp. I understand that you will be helping us take back our home world."

"It seems as though we will. A great warrior people, the current Duchess has all but castrated. Tis a shame really and a disservice to all Mandalorians. One that I would aid in seeing righted."

    He chuckled and continued to let his eyes dance over your form. The black romper you wore fitting tightly over your body, cleavage teasing and arms bare. Maul fought the sudden urge to take you there in front of all to see so it was known you belonged to him. His self-control overpowered his instincts and he continued to watch as Vizsla eyed you.

He really thinks she would stoop so low as to invite this man into her bed..

    He practically projected and you heard his words tingle in the back of your mind. You smirked knowingly.

I hold no attraction to men such as he. I'd much rather feel your horns scrape my thighs Master.

    Realizing you had heard him through the force, his eyes gleamed at your response to him. A warmth pooling in his groin and in yours.

"Drinks for our new friends!" Pre Vizsla called. The four of you took a seat at the head table and you listened with Savage as Maul discussed details of various plans with the leader.

    It wasn't long before the woman with red hair you've come to know as Bo Katan interjected standing behind your master arms folded across her chest plate.

"We've allied ourselves with Sith before. Dooku betrayed us. They're no better than Jedi."

    Thoroughly full of this woman and her insubordination you reached for your saber but before you could act, Maul was on his feet facing away from her with his hand raised to shoulder height. She dangled in the air grasping at a hand around her throat that she couldn't find. Your master growled furiously.

"Doubt will only lead to failure. Our combined strength will be rewarded. Mandalore will be yours, and Kenobi, this Sith pretender Dooku, and all our enemies will fall at our feet." He dropped her just before she passed out. Your arousal slicked your panties at the sight of him. Wetting your lips with a flick of your tongue in anticipation. The added bonus of your want was not lost your master.

Pre Vizsla looked enthralled with Maul's answer to Bo's accusation.

"I believe this alliance will be very beneficial."

Maker he didn't even have to look at her.... the way his voice growls and rumbles....

    You unknowingly shifted in your seat as you took another swing of whatever drivel they had served you.

Wait until you hear me roar little one.

    He answered in your mind sounding like it was whispered directly into your ear. A ghostly hand gripped the top of your thigh and dragged higher, just stopping before where you craved the touch to land. Your face tinged ever so slightly, easily falsely blaming the drink. After most of the warriors turned in for the night you were you shone to your private tent. Hours later only after you sensed everyone was asleep did you allow yourself to relax.

    You thought of Maul, how his scarlet skin shone in the lamp light, his tattoos a stark contrast to the rest of him. How the power had seemed to seep out of his pores. How he spat when Dooku's name left his lips. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth and playfully pinched at one of your nipples while your other hand reached down to your soaking core, teasing your clit through the cloth slowly.

    You heard him, a low rumble outside your tent before he entered. His eyes glowed, cutting through the darkness as they drifted over your still body.

"Eager tonight are we. It seems as though the lesson in patience hasn't stuck yet."

    You let out a breathy sigh at his words as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. You sat up as he sauntered over to you. Barley a silhouette in the darkness. A low rumble deep in his chest as his lips met yours with a needy passion. He buried one hand in your hair the other on your back pulling you closer to him. You gripped his shoulders eliciting a groan as you trailed your fingers down his arms. He pulled his lips away from yours and pressed his forehead to yours lovingly.

    You felt his presence in the edges of your mind as if there was a light wrapping on a shuttered window. You smiled into him. You were willing and wanting to follow this man to the ends of the galaxy long before you had started to fall for him. His hard exterior a stark contrast to the man now asking permission for entry. When you allowed him in, it felt so much fuller than what you had experienced with the fleeting vocal blurbs you had exchanged. He was warm and all encompassing. Despite his knowledge and practice with the dark side he was incredibly light and deep. Not unlike a sunset just before the sun slipped below the horizon, that last final burst of light. Surrounded by the night. So that's who your master was. A candle in the darkness at his core.

    He shuddered at the connection, never having delved and melded with someone like this. It had always been harsh, seeking, painful with the intent to extract something. With you, he just wanted to feel what was in your heart and his breath hitched when he found himself within it. He pulled back slightly. His habit to deny his desires, to deprive himself of any semblance of affection threatening to take over. You couldn't allow this and reached back out to him while your hands snaked around the back of his head, tracing the base of his horns and pressing your lips back to his.

    He quivered and moaned against your mouth as you projected your image of him into his mind. Where he couldn't deny or shy away from your beaming adoration and gratefulness. You teased the bottom of his lip with your tongue now asking him for entry. He parted his lips so you could deepen the kiss. You pulled him back so you lay on the bed with him on top of you, weaving your legs around his hips.

    You showed him how your heart fluttered when he commanded the room. How your chest swelled when you caught him candidly reading a data-pad peering over the rim of his glasses or stirring his caf. How lying in his arms on the ship eased muscles in your body you didn't know you had. How he was your strength, your motivation and your safety.

You felt hot wet droplets drip onto your cheeks but saw nothing in the lightless tent.

I've never made anyone feel safe before his voice tinged in your mind.

I've never felt safe with anyone before.

    Your tongues glided across one another's and you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, releasing it with a light 'pop’ as he whimpered against you. He sat up to slip off his tunic and pull down the top half of your garb. His mouth hot, flushed with your neck as he nipped and teased.

I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to have you like this.

It's not your choice that I give myself to you. Only if you accept it.... I pray you do..

    You swirled your tongue around the base of the horn that grew from his temple. He stifled a sob at the sensitivity and trembled. Letting you explore this feeling for only a moment before his attentions drifted further down to one of your perked nipples. He rolled his tongue across one and lightly pinched the other. You bucked your hips up into his while your breath hitched, the need for friction becoming desperate. This intimacy and careful caresses almost being enough to pull you over the edge as a knot formed below your belly button.

I hear you; I feel your desire. I will make you see stars. I'll take care of you.

    He continued his slow journey down your body, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, sucking bruises into your flesh. He slipped the rest of your dress off and threw it to the side leaving you fully exposed to him. He took a full minute that felt like hours taking in the sight of you spread out and breathing heavily for him.

You're so beautiful...

    You gasped as his hot breath hit your cunt. Inhaling your arousal, you felt something switch in him. The predatory nature of his species dancing in the background of his mind. His bestial habits and desires bred into him through generations. You fought the urge to cry out when he delved his wet muscle into you, dragging it up your folds and encircling your swollen clit only to repeat the process. His ivory horns running gentle tracks across the sensitive skin of your thighs. He cupped a breast in one hand and pinned your hips down with the other as you white knuckled the sheets.

Fucking sublime. You're soaking wet darling. All for me.... mine... mine..

He slipped two of his thick fingers into your core. You trembled as he slowly pumped them in and out of you, slightly curling them when he was knuckle deep.

Maker... master I- I can't take it... you're gonna make me...

Call me by my name when I make you cum.

    That was all it took to make you come undone over his face and hand as you trembled you whispered his name aloud like a prayer with shaky breath into the cool night air. He pulled away from you, removed his trousers and returned to your lips. Your breath still unsteady against him. You could feel his massive cock teasing your dripping sex running his ridges through your soaked lips across your overstimulated clit. Properly lubricating himself with your pleasure. You shuddered with an excited anticipation and begged him verbally with bated breath

“P-please Maul... I need to feel you... inside me.”

    A deep guttural vibration rumbled in his chest at your submissiveness. He lined his blunt head at your entrance and eased into you slowly one ridge at a time. You both gasped at the overwhelming sensation. Slowly he pushed into you until he had sunk to his hilt. He returned to your neck, sucking dark bruises into your flesh while you adjusted to his size.

Maker I... I've never felt so full! So good... feels.. so good...

    Quivering at your praise he dug his hands into the pillow behind you as he nipped at your swollen lips. A few moments passed before you started rutting your hips against him, begging him to move. He growled again while he obliged your silent wish. He started his thrusting slowly. Pulling almost all the way out before sheathing back inside you. The feeling leaving both of you breathless and desperate.

    That predatory instinct within him grew as his pace quickened. You pulled his hand to cover your mouth to stifle your sobs. Every single rut hitting something deep inside you that no lover had ever reached before.

Harder... faster... more.... you were begging as that knot in your belly started to form. It was a sinful and overwhelming feeling, being fucked so well by your master. He hitched your legs up higher on his hips throwing your ankles over his shoulders and folding you in half; allowing him even deeper entry.

You're so good for me little one.... taking my cock so well... so fucking tight and wet for me... mine. All mine..

    His thrusts became more erratic and uneven, you could feel him throbbing inside you. Every rut, he whispered in your ear possessively "Mine."

Maker you were ruined for anyone else ever again at this point. Your climax threatened to crest and your eyes rolled in the back of your head when he took it straight from your core pressing a hand over your mouth to stifle the scream that ripped itself from your throat.

    Crying out repeatedly into his palm you clenched and fluttered around his pulsating cock. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder and roared animalistically as he coated your insides with his hot seed. He thrust into you a few more times while you both trembled. Coming down from your mutual highs.

“I will serve you the galaxy on a silver platter my dear. I will lay the power of the very universe at your feet if it means you'll stay by my side.”

You kissed him sweetly in response.

All I want is you...

    He shivered at your answer and slipped out of you. He gently cleaned you with a spare sheet and cast it aside. Gathering you up into his arms he lay down on the cot and held you close. Stroking your hair until you fell asleep in the strange camp. Caught between a near death experience, your galaxy shattering orgasms and the promise of vengeance against the jedi who rejected you; you slept weightlessness on your lover's chest.

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

A Marriage Arrangement with death pt 4

All I can say is well. Well my bad-

Read Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 3.5

Y/n's eyes slowly opened, turning her head she was face to face with Savage.

Smiling softly her hand reaching out for his face, rubbing Savage's cheek with her thumb lightly.

He slowly woke up, his irises bright in color and lowly shining in the dark room. Y/n said nothing- thank the gods for black out curtains. She thought his eyes were so pretty with there soft glow

He kissed the palm of her hand softly as she smiled, leaning forwards they shared a soft kiss.

"Well good moring." She smiled.

He only sighed, pulling her into his chest as she chuckled.

"Go back to sleep."

"Come on we can't stay in bed forever." Y/n responded kissing his chin, he was rubbing her bare back with one hand she smiled at him, relaxing in his grip she sighed happily.

"We're getting married today."

"Again."

Y/n chuckled, "You don't want to get married again?" She teased.

"Why unify again and tell the galaxy when my galaxy is infront of me."

Y/n flushed deep red, as she moved her gaze away, her chest tightening and butterflies filling her stomach.

"Oh...I..." she spoke trying to come with a counter. His hand carassed her cheek as he sat himself up.

Y/n kept her gaze away the headboard seemingly more interesting, but soon then she realized she was laid down on her back, Savage over her frame as she looked at him to catch his gaze- and hold it.

"Hello there..." y/n spoke trying to cover her akwardness.

He leaned down kissing her softly without another word, her arms wrapping around his large frame, hands rest at the top of his back.

Pulling away softly Y/n whined playfully, chuckling he held her, she pulled him back down into a kiss happily as a leg wrapped around his bare waist.

A soft groan of pleasure was drawn out into the kiss and the two pulled away softly with a pant.

"Moring sex sounds fun." Y/n joked as he chuckled, going to kiss her again there was a knock on the door.

Y/n groaned in displeasure, its always someone. Pulling herself from under him she covered herself with a robe. Walking towards the door it opened with a push of a button.

"Oh- Misses Gladlys-" y/n responded, "I uh...why are you here?"

"I was requested to get you on account of your mother Princess."

Y/n nodded, "uhuh for?"

"Well to get ready of course. It is your big day."

"The ceremony isnt till later in the day?" Y/n questioned.

"Well yes but-"

"Misses Gladys I love you. And you know that. But I have another matter- Very Very big matter."

"But Princess."

"Just this once. Give me..." She spoke looking back at Savage, his hips and below covered by the blankets as his top half was put on full display for her, "Give me 45 mintues-"

"Fourty-Five Mintues!? Princess you're mother-"

"Sorry Misses Gladlys! I promise just once! Bye!-"

"But Princess-"

Y/n shut the door, locking sealing it shut from the inside.

"Now." Y/n spoke turning back to him walking towards the bed as she dropped her robe.

"Where were we?"

"Sleep."

"Right."

She climbed into bed as she curled up to him, his arm drapped over her hip in protection.

"The sweet glory of sleeping in." Y/n smiled nuzzling into his chest as he chucked, both going back to sleep for another hour.

Yet she would be woken up by a loud knocking, causing her to groan. Savage was also woken up as Y/n pulled away from him recovering herself she opened the door.

"Do you have any idea what time it is!"

"Yeah Yeah Im going." Y/n spoke walking back into the room and going back to Savage.

"Wish me luck with her- and someone will be here with a set of chlothes. My brother's will want to talk to you before hand," Y/n spoke kissing him softly, "Love you."

"I love you too."

She smiled as she left, being yelled at as soon as she opened the door.

"Yeah yeah lets go."

Savage sat up rubbing the back of his neck, meanwhile getting dressed his chlothes from the other night, pulling the boots on and bottoms, leaving his armour off he pulled on the turtle neck. That's when he received a transmission.

Picking up the hologram fromed as Ventress stood there.

"Savage."

"Mistress."

She crossed her armors, "has she trusted you?"

"Yes." Savage spoke, "I believe this may be a strong allyship between the two worlds-"

"You fool! This is an infiltration! Do not get attached!" Ventress argued.

"I thought this was ment to be Unification. Not a hoax." Savage tried to defend, but it was useless.

"Count Dooku will be present today both at the ceremony and to sign documents. Its when we will attack, killing Count Dooku and the royal family. And Dathomir will finally regain what was lost to them."

What was he suppose to say- No? He couldn't do that, he did belong to Ventress after all. The spell did what it was ment to.

"You will kill the royal family! And that Pathetic thing you call your wife." Ventress demanded.

"Yes. Mistress."

"Good."

The transmission was cut as his head felt like it split open, holding it in pain he growled.

The doors opened.

"Hey! Savage! We wanted-" it was one of Y/n's brothers, "You okay?"

"I-I am fine." Savage lied.

"Oh. come on then."

He followed the group leading him into a lounge area, all her brothers sat there. They cheered for him as he ended.

"Big day huh! Must be exciting!"

"You idiot he was married at Dathomir as well."

"Your an idiot!"

"Sorry for them." Fresco spoke apologizing for the twins, handing Savage a cup, "for your headache."

Savage nodded almost immediately downing the water, leading him to come sit down

"You heard fathers coming back?"

"Good maybe mother will finally stop being so mean."

"Please you know she bullies him too."

"You havent met all of us have you?" Fresco spoke.

"No I don't believe I have."

Fresco smiled, "there is a lot of us. You know the twins and Attiucs."

The twins were busy arguing but Atticus waved looking up from his book.

"Ezio here is the oldest." The older teen raised a cup taking a drink.

"Im after him, and Jacob's next, after are the twins but you met both of us" Fresco added, "Juniper is next."

The teen with his hair half buzzed the other side long and braided lifted up a lazy hand, sitting upside down on the couch as he listened to his brother.

"After Juniper its Atticus, and then the triplets."

They were busy dualing around the room with sticks, "Cornelius, Hamilton, and Magnus."

Hamilton stopped to wave Politely but was ran into by his two siblings as they fell onto the floor.

"What about you? And your brothers? Sisters?" Juniper questioned but Atticus kicked him.

"You little shit!-"

"I don't have any brothers. Not no more." Savage responded his glass being refilled by butler standing by.

"Hey! We got you. We're all brothers now." Fresco spoke a fist to Savage's shoulder playfully, "we're an off bunch but mean well."

The group contuied to talk to Savage, it was odd how accepting they really were. Somewhere in the back of his mind made him regret all of this.

He'd have to kill all these people.

So what was the point of getting close?

Soon enough all of there suits came, Savage the only one in white.

"Who do you think Y/n will recieve?" Juniper asked the group.

"I believe a moder. Perhaps Sutur." Ezio explained fixing the flower pin in his hair.

"What is receiving?" Savage asked.

"Hmm?" Fresco asked, "Oh it-"

Mid word Juniper cut in, "It's part of the religion. The 12 gods are believed to comibned to become the earth beneath us. Sutur is just one of the gods, mostly know for being a core due to its controling of everything hot. When you marry one born on this planet goes through a 'receiving' its rare but only twelve can get a god, but you can also get an enity or a passed loved one though that's super rare. They give you there strength within battle."

"But Y/n's much more powerful than a core- which is why she should be getting Hela." Jacob cut in.

"Hela hasnt been someones beck and call since Father." Ezio argued, "and we all know how he ended up. You wish that upon your sister?"

The group went quiet.

"I was given the impression your father was alive." Savage responded.

Fresco sighed, "when he was assigned Hela he descended into madness with each kid born. They think he's in Helheim and will return- He'll be Y/n's receiver."

"I think he's dead dead." Jacob responded, "like he deserves and mother better follow him"

"You can't say that!" Atticus argued.

"Please Attiucs grow up." Juniper spoke.

Savage listened intently, as Fresco looked back at the Zabarack, "We may have a large family, but the heads of the family aren't...the best"

"It sounds like my family." Savage told him as they all started filing out of the room, leaving just him and Fresco in the room alone, "I. Unfortunately grew up without one of my brothers, he was taken away due to his special ablities."

Fresco listened as he poured them both a glass of whiskey, "And my younger brother. I don't remember what happened, or if he's even alive."

Handing Savage the glass they stood by the window.

"Makes you not want to have kids." Fresco questioned, "I know it scares me. Becoming the one thing I hate."

"On Dathomir men are only used for mating and then usually killed off." Savage spoke.

Fresco frowned looking out the window- how was he ment to respond to such information.

"I know my sister will treat you with Kindness." Fresco spoke, "it seems you're already growing on her. I seen you two at the dinner."

Savage felt his chest tighten, he was falling in love with her, and he liked it. He loved the idea of her.

"Guys hurry up or it will be the groom walking down the Isle." Ezio told as he had quickly come back.

The two left with each other side by side. Both enjoying the silence as they walked down the steps. Thats right, He had only been down and up these steps a few times, but those few times were some of the best times of his life.

Stopping outside the castle he looked back, seeing it all shiney as the sun hit it perfectly, looking like something out of a book. The whole walk was like that- there was no reason to take out a whole planet for the sake of Dathomir, Dathomir didn't need another planet- he would of liked them to fix theres first atleast.

"Savage?"

He turned his head seeing Y/n standing there, when was she here? Looking around a bit shaken she stood in her wedding dress- it looked perfect on her, with a full bottom and a lacey top that had the same matching sleeves. When were they at the alter already?

"Are you okay?" She whispered softly, the priest reading off religious text.

"I-" he spoke looking at her what was he suppose to tell her?

Her white dress would be bloodstained within a matter of mintues due to what Mother Talzin was planning?

"I have a headache is all." He responded.

Y/n frowned, "maybe some food afterwords will make you feel better. Caf was even skipped this moring."

"Right." He responded, and left it at that.

"Do you take this man to be your husband? To take of him in sickness and health? To love him without doubt?"

Y/n smiled, "I do."

Her hand gripped onto his in excitement, that small squeeze made him happy, feeling her hand in his.

He had no idea what the woman infront of them said but only said the words as quick as he comprehend.

"I do." He cut the lady off.

Y/n flushed as she looked down flustered.

"Then I do pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Y/n was pulled in quickly, shocking her, but it wasn't unwelcomed, kissing back the large church full of people cheered as they pulled away and as he did He seen Count Dooku sitting next to Mother Miranda. The group of people settling down, calming themselves once more as the woman cleared her throat Savage being gestured over by her brothers who were off to the side as he went over.

"With the coming of age you Y/n will be the caller of one of our twelve gods. You may be choosen for something greater, or passed by as a common folk." She spoke, "are you ready to give yourself to the twelve gods and let them judge you as one!"

"Yes head preist." Y/n spoke as her wrist was grabbed and palmed opened where it was sliced open Y/n gritting her teeth slightly as she was dragged to the floor, only following as her hand was put face down on the alters floor.

The woman moved to the side as the doors behind the alter creaked. Atticus holding onto Savages leg as Savage put a hand on his shoulder telling him he'd be okay.

"By the twelve gods..." Fresco spoke as the door opened a large hand crawling onto the carved in wood.

"I-its Hela..." Ezio asperated as the door swung open heavily crashing into the wall. Which it was hinged to.

The room silent and still as the other swung open.

The figure large, made up of what seemed to be Ash, body exposed and what looked like to be burnt half way just to show her dark innards, she was on all fours as Y/n looked up at her, slowly standing up as it went quiet for a moment.

Y/n reached out her cut hand, Hela reaching out her hand as well as Y/n looked forward keeping her eyes on Hela.

Somewhere some how Helas hand had shrunken along with part of her arm as they were bound by the cut on Y/n's hand.

'They're here-'

A warrior bursted into the doors as Y/n turned her head, "We're being attacked! The ships! They've all been destroyed!-"

The man stopped stabbed through the back, and fell to the floor.

"So sorry to ruin this happy momment."

Y/n growled as her hand was let go, and in place of Hela's hand held a sword, as Ventress walked down the isle.

"Damn are sister really is a bad ass-" Ezio spoke under his breath.

Dooku stood up as well, saber in hand.

"You were foolish to come alone." Y/n argued Hela still behind her looming in all her darkness.

"Who says I'm alone?"

Just as she spoke, a Battalion of night sisters filed into the room from both sides of her.

"Savage." Ventress spoke.

"Yes Mistress."

Almost immediately Fresco who stood besides Savage was lifted up into the air, force choking him as Fresco grabbed at his neck.

"Savage! Stop! Now!" Y/n demanded, "Stop now!"

"Kill him. Now." Ventress demanded.

There was a large crack as the filled church was still in shock, the young man thrown to the floor as his brother immediately surronded him.

"He's dead! He killed Fresco!"

Thats when the chaos started, when one had been pronounced dead.

Y/n could remember, it was all a blur. All the fighting- the blood shed. All she remember was ripping through people with her new found sword, swinging at heads and abdomens, she was luck that her skirt hadn't had a train.

Atticus had ran to her as she fought on the stairs stabbing a nightsister in the face and kicking her back, her white dress covered in dirt and blood, "Y/n!"

"Attiucs! Run away now!" Y/n argued, blocking another weapon, kicking the women in the female Kenobi's

"I'm not gonna leave you!" He shouted.

"Damn it Atticus!" Y/n shouted slicing the woman's flesh and grabbing his hand, "Come on! Lets go!"

Atticus ran hand in hand with her, somehow and some way some of her brothers caught up, they running and escaping to the castle.

"We have to be quiet take off your shoes." Y/n whispered the group hiding behind a wall as they all pulled there shoes off, "You have your run away bags all ready?"

"What?" Magnus asked, his other brother Cornelius, holding his hand, he had lost one of three to Ventress.

"Shit thats right, they never made there's. I'll go with them." Ezio spoke quietly,

Y/n nodded taking a quick head count, they had lost so many already, Fresco, Juniper, and Hamilton.

"I'll take Cornelius and Magnus." Jacob offered.

"I'll take Atticus. Ezio- weapons and maps?"

Ezio nodded, "becareful."

They all nodded, spliting up, Y/n had lucky gotten Attiucs up the stairs and to his room, as he was grabbing his things.

"Y/n." Atticus spoke as she was making sure he had everything for a final time as they carefully walked to her room, once inside she answered him.

"Yes Atticus." She responded going for her own bag.

"Savage...he isnt that mean. I know he isn't." Atticus spoke, "I know we didn't know him long but- he didn't wanna kill Fresco did he?"

Y/n tossed her dress the the floor dressed in trousers now fixing her top.

"Atticus." Y/n spoke kneeling down to him, "I know you liked him. I did too, but I don't even know anymore."

Attiucs frowned, as she held his shoulder's, "Are you going to kill him? Savage?"

Y/n frowned, "I don't know."

[augment-techs]

I DON'T KNOW HOW THE WRITING PROMPT MEME WORKS REALLY

but it's WAYYYY too CUTE to not do. Sooooo how about I toss ya some numbers! ^^

Hand holding: 12 and 10! 33,

Hugs: 2, 18, 27

Hope it isn't too much!!! ^^

Kim was emotionally fluctuating between feeling sorry for Tommy, and trying not to go into shock whenever she walked into a room and found her older, alternate universe, badass-self kissing an older, Coinless General Bulk. Watching them seemed more perfect than she might have dared hope for whatever fate was allotted to the Ranger Slayer. When they'd first dropped into their Command Center and explanations had been given, Alpha had allowed Bulk to lead his Kimberly to the medical bay, and Kim had followed after them in case they got lost. Bulk was incredibly good with the damaged woman that could probably beat him into the ground at any moment. Kimberly hadn't even huffed when he'd offered her a piggy-back ride and then insisted on bandaging up her hand that'd been cut open when she'd gone after Tommy and he'd had to defend himself with Saba. He'd sterilized the wound, wrapped it tight but not without sympathy and hadn't bothered untangling their fingers or letting go when they'd wandered back into the room Zordon occupied so they could all talk and argue and occupy themselves with searching the data banks for ways out and locating their other friends for hours. The kissing was on the extreme end of their affections, though. In the days that followed, Kim didn't see them lock lips as often, as they usually found themselves training or cooking or reading with just one hand, as the other one was invariably found more often holding onto the other; like two magnets that would always find themselves connected if given enough time.  It was, admittedly, adorable as anything she could have imagined, but still a surprise she couldn't help but balk at. Tommy underwent the same amount of shock with the random displays of affection that he often stumbled into with Kim, but he had more pressing issues: when he left to walk into a room with one of the Coinless universe alters, he always had to keep his movements to a minimum, hands far away from his pockets, and eyes to the ground. With the older Trini, Zack, and Bulk, it wasn't so bad; with the Omega Rangers out in space and their history with this smaller Tommy helping them before Drakkon shattered the Morphin Grid, they were more willing to acknowledge that the evil despot and the teen weren't the same. With those Coinless who had never been Rangers--Rocky and Aisha in leather and combat armor with battle scars, had looked very shocked when they'd met their younger selves in Ranger gear, Adam being given the oddest looks from the elders--it was much harder, because they hadn't even spoken to Tommy. And they'd all been dumped through a hole in space and time that the Eltarians and Zedd had caused when Zelya had gotten away from the moon, so everyone was still reeling--especially with them being separated into three groups around Angel Grove. Perhaps they'd make up their minds when the stragglers from Drakkon's universe arrived at the Command Center... * * "He's very strong, and very sure, but he's no Drakkon." "No offense, Skull, but how--" "Could I know that?" The spy--spy, spy, actual double agent who had to relay messages and blend into the background and not die a horrible painful death at the slightest misstep, how the fucking hell--smiled with benevolent pragmatism. Rocky nodded, mouth tightening into a line as Aisha stood her own ground in their questioning. They would have loved not to have come to such an awkward position with having to use Skull to calm down their worries, put them to bed, and smother them to death, but they couldn't find solace and reassurance in Zack and Trini's words and it didn't seem fair to keep putting the kids in defense positions just because they could calm the fuck down. Skull flicked his hand open and made a motion for Tommy to come closer to him, which he did with only a slight hesitation. He wasn't wearing his suit, but Skull had been the only person so far from the other dimension who hadn't looked at him and gone fully rigid, so he had a good sporting chance of not being injured here. When he was only a

step or two from walking directly into Skull, the man offered up his open palm, harmless and dangerous at the same time, and Tommy blinked, unsure and afraid, before deciding it was better to get everything that was going to happen one way or another out of the way. He lifted up his own hand and laid it flat in Skull's. There was dirt under his pointer finger and he only had a single twitch of a moment to be embarrassed before the much bigger fingers circled his wrist and wound around his knuckles, brought his hand upwards, as if he was little more than an infant fresh from a tub, or a sun warmed kitten.  Tommy felt a coil behind his belly bunch up all of his nerves at once when Skull's fingers slotted between his own in a possessive kind of way that sparked familiar-unfamiliar thoughts--those all fading away when the man kept their palms together and brought his head down, breathing out like a gust of a train through a mountain pass, and inhaling at Tommy's wrist. Nose tip to his skin raising all the goosebumps Tommy thought he even had. He's pretty sure his ponytail sparked at the end when he jerked a little back. Which swiftly brought him to absolute internal humiliation that showed across his face like a goddamn Muppet. Just because he'd seen that Skull let the Coinless drink his blood right from his finger and they all ate it in bread and stuff after he'd let a tube from his arm pour into the batter of whatever he made them, didn't necessarily mean the man would bite him. ...He hoped. Then, as if that hadn't been the weirdest thing, Skull lifted his head to grin at him, but didn't let go of his hand as the man addressed Rocky, Aisha, and all the other adults--and Tommy was too confused to ask him to let go, so... there was that, "He doesn't smell like he's rotting from the inside; like he needs to be wearing five layers of Axe Body Spray. And he isn't getting all put-upon and squirrely with me holding onto him. And, if you'll humor me a moment?" He was looking at Tommy directly at the last bit, but didn't let the teen answer before he found himself being wrapped in arms that had way more muscle than Skull had any right to have in any universe holy hell--and Tommy was suddenly in a bear hug, feet off the ground and spun around twice as much as he had ever been even at five years old; three times around and around, before he was planted on the couch like a sack of flour right next to Kim (his Kim, who looked utterly stunned and far too amused). The giggle that left his mouth when he smiled at her smiling at him should not have come into existence, and if he hadn't been red before, he was practically blazing as he brought his hands up to cover his mouth.  Skull's hand patted him on the head as he ducked his head as much as possible at the sounds of snickering and the other adults choking on their own reactions. He definitely felt like a kitten. "See? Totally harmless to us. Now let them take us to the Juice Bar and feed us; I'm hungry and Ernie's alive here to make me that banana-marshmallow smoothie I haven't had in over a decade." * "I...played the right politics." It would have been so fucking nice if Billy would stop asking Skull questions about the past and present the Coinless had to live through. He didn't mean to make the adults with faces he knew and worried over angry or tired, but Adam was getting very, very annoyed with how he always seemed to find the core root of things that made Skull look... All the emotion left Skull's face at that word, every single time. Politics, like a euphemism for something else entirely.  (And it was.) Adam remembered, because he was there when Zack and Trini, Aisha and Bulk, Rocky and the others weren't; inside the fortress Drakkon ran and imbibed in terrorizing whenever he got especially bored. The monster loved to play games with his sentries, with his prisoners, but rarely with his staff, because it took time and effort to train up new ones. But the sentries were his favorite, because they had to prove their loyalty each and every day. Some in

little ways, some in big ways. And Drakkon remembered Skull. Zack and Trini hoped he wouldn't, and Skull, when he was giving help and clues and time that he could to them, made it seem as if he never even crossed Drakkon's mind from being a punk that wore a spiked collar back in high school to becoming one of the higher-functioning members of the red sentries. Oh, being a spy made him so good at pretending nothing was wrong, how to be cool under pressure, how to avoid danger on all sides with one way out or none at all; how to think ahead, think like his opponent, pull facts and plans out of instinct and thin air (because what other choice was there, after all). That was why he was the best; probably why, too, he was revived from death by the universe and multiverse reshaping itself with the Grid's renewal. Politics translated so well to Games in Drakkon's palace. (It was amazing how often the horrible bastard made the sentries fight or fuck each other in his presence; the threat of his being displeased getting them through most of the time, and out the door when he was finished with himself to go vomit or find a shower or smoke so many cigarettes. As far as Adam knew, Skull was one of the very rare few who were made to fight or pleasure Drakkon himself. Skull and Adam and one yellow sentry that died before Kim returned to their world. If Kim was ever made to do as they were, she didn't tell or didn't remember, and Adam was thankful for that. And thankful for Skull. When he fought other sentries, he injured with care to avoid it being permanent or knocked out the other in a show of force that Drakkon appreciated that didn't lead to brain damage but made a good show. When he was made to fuck the others, he carried necessary aids to protect them from hating themselves or leaving much of a trace behind--condoms made from animal skin by Finster-5 he bribed out of the little freak; lubricant so there wouldn't be blood or bruising; an aptitude for pleasing other people as thoroughly and as quickly as he could while being on top and leading them through it with hands calloused but still soft. When he had to use his mouth on Drakkon or submit to the tyrant--often in front of others and while being degraded with his real name being used like words from a djinn or an immortal snake--he did so efficiently and made it seem as though he wasn't being forced at all.  Adam hated Drakkon more than anyone those times he had to be there and watched Skull pull his armor back on and resume his place in line among the other sentries like nothing had happened. He hadn't known him before the world came crashing down, but before he'd traded his loyalty for the hope that his family might survive--what a stupid hope that had been--he'd heard that the man had cried over Billy Cranston's gave for a week after his death and been good.) But this small, wide-eyed Billy Crantson, alive and well and looking at Skull with so much awe and respect that Adam could spot it from a mile away if he was goddamn blind, didn't need to hear that. Did not need the thought in his head like a rotting wound festering with so many white little maggots. So Adam continued sipping his coffee (pumpkin spice; which was so fucking good after years of straight, bitter instant black) and remained in his usual place beside Skull in the daytime, watching him go through the motions in this time out of joint from their own. Gladder still to be in the Juice Bar, watching the teens enjoy themselves, play at their video games, ramble on about tests they had to take in school; watch the Coinless eat their food and drink their smoothies, enjoy watching their young reflections practice gymnastics or martial arts. When Billy excused himself to talk to the Stone Canyon Trio about some notes they'd asked for from Ms. Appleby's class, eyes still sparkling with information given and listening to Skull like he would have listened to him even if he knew everything out of his mouth could have been a lie; nobody saw Adam wrap an arm around Skull's waist and squeeze

him from the side. It was just as well.

[isolemnlyswearpevensie]

The Magic Inside of Us Part 4 | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Warnings: slightly dark themes, mentions of weapons, mention of war, curse words

Time/Era: Deathly Hallows/Prince Caspian, Y/N and Edmund are 6th year/16 years old

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: War falls across Narnia quickly, pulling Y/N into the heat. 

Request: Narnia x Harry Potter crossover. 

A/N: Sorry for the delay lol. One more part after this! Woohoo!

| previous part | 

masterlist | series masterlist | edmund pevensie playlist | read on ao3

“Hold still,” Y/N held Edmund’s face in between her fingers. There was a large, deep gash striking across his left eyebrow. “This is going to hurt.” 

“Oh great! Exactly what we need-” 

“Episky!” Y/N cut off Edmund with a wave of her wand. The wound immediately began to close, but Ed let out a harsh grunt. 

“Blimey, Y/N!” 

Y/N stood and made her way to Susan to do the same thing to her injury. “You’re welcome, Pevensie. Be glad you’re not bleeding out anymore.” 

Y/N’s voice was stern and cold. She felt silly being upset; this wasn’t her world and it wasn’t her friends. But, at the same time, she knew this would happen. 

“How did you learn how to do that?” Susan asks, holding her arm out towards her friend. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice at school. When one of your close friends is Harry Potter, you get used to everyone being a bit banged up.” Y/N smiled sadly and observed Susan’s skin. “Now, hold still. Yours shouldn’t hurt as bad.” 

Susan’s wounds healed and she observed her arm. “Who’s Harry Potter and why does being friends with him mean you’re injured?” 

“What do you mean? Harry Potter is the-” 

Edmund clears his throat and sends Y/N a pointed look. “He’s a boy a year above us. He plays quidditch.” 

“That’s the magical sport right?” Susan’s voice wavered with uncertainty and she looked towards Y/N for validation. 

“Right, yeah. Yeah, my best friend Ginny plays too.” 

~

“So, you like to keep secrets,” Y/N bit into an apple as she leaned against a marble pillar. It was unlike any apple she had ever tasted before; it was a dark purple color with a certain plumpness that made your mouth water. As one bit into it, juice that was as sweet as candy dripped down your chin. “That’s interesting.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Edmund grunted, his gaze fixed on the small dagger he was sharpening. It appeared to be Lucy’s. 

“Mmhm, what don’t they know?” 

“Pretty much all of it. I don’t want them to worry.” 

Y/N laughed curtly and took another bite of her fruit. “Ah, I see. So you thought keeping them in the dark about everything wizard related would keep them safer? Now I understand why you don’t like doing magic in front of them.” 

“I don’t like your sarcasm.” 

“I don’t like secrets, Ed.” The girl walked over to the tomb opening and tossed her apple core into the distance. “Knowledge is power, you know. It would probably be nice to inform them that the entire wizarding world is at war.” 

“They’ve had enough war in their lifetimes, love. They don’t need to get wrapped up in another one; especially one where they are practically defenseless in.” Edmund looked up at Y/N then back down to the weapon in his hand. It was now much sharper and it caught the torchlight. 

“I suppose,” Y/N sat next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. “Was the invasion bad? Peter and Caspian seemed, um, tense.” 

“Bad sure is a word for it.” 

The two were talking in hushed whispers now as they watched everyone tend to the wounded and prepare for a potential attack. 

“A lot of your soldiers didn’t return,” Y/N felt Edmund wrap an arm around her waist. “You don’t have to explain what happened. I know how hard death is.” 

“I’m fine, I suppose. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Edmund’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. “Peter’s planning another attack, though. It’s like he has something to prove.” 

“To who?”   “Us, Caspian, himself. He’s a bit hardheaded.” 

“Guess that runs in the family.” Y/n giggled, trying to brighten the mood of the conversation. “Would that Aslan figure be able to help? I mean, you and your siblings speak so highly of-” 

“I’m not quite sure,” Edmund interrupted, his fingers pressing into Y/N’s side. “Maybe.” 

“Is there a way to contact him?” 

“If anyone has a chance, it’s Lucy. I don’t know, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

The pair looked towards the small girl. She looked to be having a deep conversation with Peter, nodding every other word spoken. Y/N leaned into Edmund and rested her head against his shoulder. 

“I’m sure all will be well, darling.” Her voice sounded alongside a sigh. 

~

“Now’s not the time for chivalry, Peter!” Edmund shouted, one hand gripping the handle of his sword, the other Y/N’s hip. Peter stared into Miraz’s eyes as he kneeled before the young king. The two share some more words before Peter presents his sword towards Caspian. 

“I can’t watch,” Y/N whispers before turning her head. 

Her body flinches as Caspian screams and everything starts moving quickly.

“Run!” Edmund yells, grabbing Y/N’s elbow and pulling with full force. Her body jerks in his direction, but her gaze stays forward. Hundreds of soldiers were marching towards them, making Y/N’s entire body grow hot. 

Y/N had never been in actual battle before; while the wizarding world was in a war, she had never seen it first hand. So being forced into it head-on was bone-crushingly terrifying. Arrows whizzed by her head, armor clashed, swords were drawn, and suddenly, the air became thick with blood and screams. 

“Stay here,” Edmund breathed, pushing Y/N behind a large boulder. 

“Are you mental?! I’m not just going to let you-”

“This isn’t your war, sweetheart.’ A sad smile crossed his face before he leaned down and pressed a haste kiss to her cheek. “I’m not going to let you risk your life fighting for us. It’s not fair.” 

“Life’s not fair, Pevensie,” Y/N stood and drew her wand. “Protego!” 

A stone-strong barrier came over the two sitting ducks right before a Telmarine soldier drove his weapon into Edmund’s shoulder blade. 

“I’m not defenseless! I just don’t have a sword!” Y/N’s voice is loud now. “They won’t know what’s coming!” 

“For the love of merlin, Y/N!” Edmund gripped either side of her shoulders. “I’m not letting you get hurt.” 

A smile plastered over Y/N’s cheeks, “Who said I’m getting hurt?” 

~

Edmund sat on the grand steps of the palace, now freshly bathed and dressed in new clothes. His muscles ached and his shoulders drooped with every breath; the blisters on his palms burned in anguish and his jaw cramped from the stress of battle. Edmund was exhausted. 

“Hey,” Y/N grinned, freshly dressed in her own clothing. “I was wondering where you were. Everyone is gathered by the weird looking tree.” 

The boy grinned ear to ear when he saw Y/N. She looked gorgeous dressed in formal Narnian clothing, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander the long expanse of her dress. 

“There she is,” Edmund stood. “I was waiting for you to find me.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence overtook the pair. It was an odd silence; both of the teens had grown used to the white noise of armor clanking or swords being sharpened. Now, the sounds of battle were replaced with birds and running water. It just sounded… odd. 

“Thanks by the way,” Y/N said after a few moments. “For the whole ‘trying to protect me’ thing. It was sweet.” 

“Sweet? That’s all I get?” Edmund scrunched his nose playfully. 

The girl wrapped her arms around his middle and looked up at him. “Sweetest thing anyone’s done for me, that’s for sure. Showed you care.” 

“Of course I care, Y/N.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

They giggled awkwardly. 

“What do we do now?” Y/N broke the ice once more. “I mean, you’re King of an entire fucking country- or is it a world? I still don’t understand your title.” 

“Well, There’s a lot of things we can do. We can explore that whole finding each other attractive thing we briefly mentioned for one.” 

Y/N hummed, eyelids hooded. “Mmm, could we now?” 

“I’d like to, at least.” Edmund tucked a piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “And I think you do too.” 

“Me? Date a royal? Isn’t there rules against that?” Edmund snickered, “Love, I make the rules.” 

“Oh, right. I forgot about that-” 

“Y/N?” 

“Edmund.” 

He smiled and leaned in, “Shut up for once, will you?”  ~ The Magic Inside of Us Taglist: @pillowjj @lumoscharlie @crumpets-are-better-with-jam @urbankaite2 @oldschoolkiddo @whothefuckstolemykeds

[fanfoolishness]

The Invitation (The Mandalorian)

Spoilers for the entirety of The Mandalorian S1 and S2.  Din Djarin finds himself in dreams that seem realer than real, reminding him of his loss, but he begins to find a sense of hope again.  A promise is kept.  Bittersweet but hopeful, 2600 words. ***

He did not remember when he stopped dreaming of life before his armor.  He was still so young when his dreams first began to show themselves through the filter of a beskar helmet, when he grew used to the sound of his voice slightly muffled and mechanized.  

This dream seemed no different than his usual, at least at first.  Sometimes they were soaring, vivid things; his parents’ faces that final day, memories of battles etched into his body and bones, lessons in his youth with the Covert.  Other times they were merely soft, confused impressions he barely remembered upon waking.  But always there was the familiar sense and weight of beskar.

Din sat now in the Razor Crest, hands resting on the controls.  Something tickled at the back of his mind, a sense that this wasn’t right, but he ignored it.  He checked the navicomputer, setting a course to a planet he didn’t know in a language he couldn’t read, and the starfield stretched before him.

A small noise beside him caught his attention.  He turned to see Grogu there, poking flashing buttons, a mischievous look on his face.  

“Hey now,” he said, with a sternness he didn’t really feel.  “You know better.”  It’s so good to see you, buddy.  He smiled beneath the helmet.

The child’s ears lowered, the tips brushing his sturdy robes.  He slowly raised his eyes to Din, and something about the way they gleamed, so bright, so present, cut Din to the core.  For a moment, he wondered --

The dream shifted, beginning to buckle under the weight of the knowledge that he was dreaming.  The Crest darkened and drifted around them, and he began to forget, began to lose himself.  No!  I want to stay with him -- please --

He reached out a hand, blurry in the faltering dream, to try and touch the child’s face one more time --

He awoke with a start, breathing hard, tears on his cheeks.  He sat bolt upright in his narrow bunk, trying to remember just one more glimpse of the child.  He closed his eyes, fixing the memory as closely as he could.  There were not enough of them.  There would never be enough.

He bowed his head.  He’s safe.  You did the right thing.  The Jedi will protect him.

But the words felt just as hollow now as they did yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.  The wound was still so fresh; it had only been a few short weeks since the rescue.  He lay awake long into the night, the tears drying on his naked face.

***

Life continued as ever it did. He’d seen it many times before.  One day your world shattered, the next, you kept going anyway.  He told himself he’d do it again, and again, because what else was there to do but fight forward?  

He knew what he had done on the bridge for the Child.  Knew what the Armorer would declare, knew that the Children of the Watch would have rejected him utterly.  Clan Mudhorn would be stricken from the records, the title Mandalorian stripped from his soul.

But he traveled not with the Children of the Watch now.  He traveled with an heir to the Mandalorian throne, who wore her bare face as proudly as her armor, and when he slowly, cautiously, placed his helmet on once more, beskar still felt like home.  

Each morning he tended to his armor: cleaned and polished the beskar with reverence, checked the clothing and leathers for tears, made repairs as needed with a miniature arc torch, with needle and thread.  

Each morning he tended to his weapons: performed maintenance on his blaster, topped off fuel levels for the Dragon Flame, carefully adjusted the Whistling Birds, calibrated the Rising Phoenix, gingerly examined the unwanted Darksaber.  

Each morning he held a little silver ball, brushing his thumb over its smooth surface, praying his promise had not been a lie.

He kept going.

This was the Way.

***

The sands of Tatooine.  A faint desert smell even through his helmet’s filter, boots sinking into the dunes, Peli Motto’s droids chittering away to themselves.  Din and Grogu sat against the landing gear of the Crest, Grogu leaning against Din’s hip.

“Hey there, kid,” Din said softly.  He reached down and stroked the tip of one of Grogu’s long ears.  “You having a good time?”

Grogu turned his head and looked steadily at him, face and ears spreading into a small smile. 

Din reached into his bag, pulling out cookies for the child.  Perhaps they weren’t the most nutritious food, but Grogu ate plenty of protein, and Din had the extra coin for a treat today.  He handed a cookie to Grogu, a little blue stack of sugar, and the child bit into it, watching him expectedly.

“Oh, you want --”  Din looked around, searching for shadows, figures.  The droids and the mechanics had melted away.  “You want me to try one?”

Grogu’s shoulders jumped up in excitement as he finished his cookie.  Din handed him another, then held one between his gloved fingers, considering.

He lifted his helmet slightly, just enough to expose his mouth, and took a bite.  Grogu let out a sweet little sound, almost like a giggle.

Happy, Din thought.  Or felt.  He wasn’t certain how he knew it, but he did.  Was he happy?  Was Grogu?  It was difficult to tell where he ended, where the child began, here in the gritty sand beneath the cloudless skies, here in the dream --  

He woke up reaching for the little silver ball, and clasped it to his chest, remembering.

***

The dreams, though rare, stayed with him: a humming presence in the back of his mind even as he traveled between far-flung stars, speaking words of war and battle with the other Mandalorians, fighting for a forgotten world.  Things were in motion now that he had never meant, had never dreamed when he was a foundling boy first given his helmet. The Darksaber hung heavy at his hip, a reluctant weight.  

He trained with the others in the ways of the Rising Phoenix, in the wielding of the Darksaber, in the history of Mandalore.  It was difficult, sometimes, being around so many after long years spent mostly alone.  But in quiet times, the empty spaces of new journeys, Din studied.  Ways of ancient Mandalore, Ways of different clans whose names he had never heard spoken, new understandings of what the Creed meant.  

He found a comfort there: he found a path his own. 

He stood on the soil of a dozen different moons and planets.  The mossy loam of Endor, springy beneath each footstep.  The white salt fields of Crait, red sand clinging to his boots.  The rain-worn rocks of Eadu.  The desert sands of Savareen, caressed by ocean waves. 

He stood beneath a dozen suns and moons, his helmet cradled beneath his arm.  The wind tossed his hair; the rain lashed his face; the sunlight warmed his cheeks.  He breathed deep of each world, of the scents of fern and tree, wind and water, and he was not ashamed.

He was a Mandalorian.

***

Din looked around.  The Razor Crest again, each inch of it his well-remembered home.  But his view was not quite the same as he best recalled it.  He reached up.  He felt skin beneath his gloved fingertips, not beskar.

Grogu burbled on his lap, little green hands resting on the instrument bank.  Din bowed over him, his face working into a smile.  He was still learning the different ways his expressions could be used, a skill he had never learned as an adult.  The smile felt clumsy, but Grogu’s delighted coo let him know he had gotten it right.

“Grogu,” he said, and the little one leaned against him, safe in his arms.

“You like it here, huh?” Din asked quietly.  Memory flickered, filtering in through the comforting warmth of -- was this a dream again?  He faltered.  “I’m afraid I don’t have the Crest anymore.”

Grogu gazed up at him, clearly puzzled.  Din closed his eyes.  “They destroyed it.  When they took you away.”  His throat burned, eyes stinging.  How did this feel so real?  So clear?

Grogu’s ears dropped, his little face falling.  Din took both of the child’s small hands in his, holding them gently.

“I’m sorry, Grogu,” he murmured.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them from taking you.”

Little hands gripped his own.  A thought, a feeling, a knowing.  

I...  did everything I could.  He understands.

He held his child until the dream dissolved, and he woke up in the dark, his face damp again.

***

Weeks drifted into months.  Months threatened years.  He earned new scars, new weapons, a new ship.  The Darksaber still felt foreign, but it was a weight that he could bear, at least for a little while.

The dreams continued, always sporadic, but growing a little clearer, a little longer every time. Sometimes they were on Sorgan, sometimes Nevarro.  More recently, they were starting to be places Din had traveled but Grogu had never seen; and he had not dreamed of the Razor Crest since he’d admitted to Grogu that it was gone.

He wasn’t sure what meaning to ascribe to this.  They were merely dreams, after all, visions crafted by heart and mind and memory. The only strange thing about them was that feeling, that sense of realer than real that left him grieving and grateful both every time he awoke.

No matter.  He only knew that the dreams comforted him, reminded him of what he still fought for every day. That was enough, wasn’t it?

***

He stood on Mandalor, the ruined skies above him, the blasted earth at his feet.  It tore at him.  Bones of the mythosaur had been ground into the dust long ago, and his people’s sorrow was heavy all around him.  He had never been here before.  Had he?

He turned to Grogu, clinging to his shin, and picked the child up.  In his other arm he held his helmet.  “We don’t fly the Crest anymore, when I meet you here,” he said suddenly.  It hung between them, a query, an accusation.

Grogu gazed at him, Mandalor’s sun glimmering in his eyes.  

“... ever since I told you the Crest was gone,” he murmured.

Realization.  Understanding.  He knew what I said.  And the dreams changed.  Din froze, his heart pounding.  Could it --

“Grogu,” he said carefully.  “Are… are you here?”

Grogu clapped his hands together in delight, then reached up, his fingertips brushing against Din’s cheek.  He cooed with contentment.

“How?” Din whispered.

Flashes, fierce and vivid.  Tython.  The seeing stone.  Grogu seeking, seeking --

“I’m not a Jedi,” Din said mulishly.  “How could you --”

Grogu leaned against him, tucking his head under Din’s chin.

Grogu meditating, face calm and concentrating, the Jedi seated beside him --

A heavy stillness in the air, the indefinable sense of something greater; visions of certain places where power flourished, places where the child could reach beyond --

The bond between them, a force its own -- his own face shining in the child’s eyes --

“I don’t understand, kid,” said Din desperately, fighting a rising sense of hope, confusion, wonder.  Sunlight slanted through the skies above them, banishing the ruined clouds.  Grogu was content in his arms, curled up, fighting sleep --

And Mandalor shimmered around them, whole and beautiful once more, falling away into the stars.

***

Din jerked awake, breathing hard.  He fumbled for the little silver ball, holding it so tightly his fingers throbbed with the beat of his heart.  

“It’s him,” he whispered, his voice a faint, shocked murmur sinking into the ship’s stillness.  “Dank farrik, kid!”  

He laughed so hard he nearly choked, tears streaming down his face.

***

The days arced away, seasons changing between the stars, and he pressed onward.  Beskar was home, foundation, protector, salvation.  He carried it into the greater galaxy with honor.  It gleamed to all, a symbol of Mandalore and the Way.

But he wore new armor beneath his beskar, secret, sustaining, a burning hope.  Strange he had once forgotten how it felt.  He carried with him a certain knowledge, a joy that bettered the long days beyond measure.  

He knew the dreams were real.

He knew, truly, that Grogu had not forgotten him.

***

There was a final dream.

Din sat in the grass, gray-streaked hair lifted by the soft breeze beneath a yellow sun.  Birdsong chimed in trees tall and elegant and beautiful.  He scented rich flowers on the air.  In the distance, a temple rose from beyond the trees, its form as natural to the landscape as the hills themselves.

Grogu sat beside him, only a little bigger than Din remembered.  He looked peaceful, calm, assured.  He smiled, ears tipping upward.

“I miss you, kid,” said Din simply.

Grogu dipped his head in something like a nod, then leaned against him, sighing.  Din rested his hand on the child’s shoulder, where it belonged.

A sudden sensation at his side.  Din reached for the silver ball, but it wasn’t there.

It hung before them, gleaming, rotating in the bright sunlight.  It looked just as it did in the waking world, with one side worn smooth and dull from long handling.

Grogu gazed up at him.  The ball spun.

“Go on, take it,” said Din.  

The ball sank into Grogu’s outstretched hand.  His small face creased into a silent laugh, and he rested his other hand on Din’s leg, a look of focus settling into his expression.

Din closed his eyes.  And he saw --

He saw a name, clear as day, Aurebesh letters searing into his mind’s eye.

Saw coordinates, precisely laid out, leading to a system, a planet, a temple.

He saw an invitation.

“I’ll be there,” breathed Din. He gathered Grogu into his arms.  “As soon as I can.”  They held each other as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, as he slipped back into waking once again.

***

The ship soared through the air, seeking a point of touchdown.  Din checked the coordinates again, his heart racing.  What if he’d been wrong?  What if all of this was some kind of madness, some trick of the imagination?  

The temple crested the horizon, ringed with those tall, beautiful trees, rising against the sun-soaked hills.  He let out a shaky breath.

He landed near the temple in a flat clearing.  He checked his belt, touched the silver ball once more, and made his way out onto the grass.

Motes danced on the air in the golden sunlight streaming through the trees.  The evening light was warm on his beskar.  Birds in the canopy sang with familiar voices, calling him onward, and he held no weapon in his hands.

There was a small sound, the tiniest sensation at his hip.  He brushed his hand against his belt.  Where did it --

The silver ball hung in the air before him, gleaming in the golden light.

Din stared at it.  His chest rose, then fell, his shoulders heaving.  His vision blurred as he reached for his helmet, as he wiped at his eyes with an unsteady hand.

The ball drifted forward, spinning a perfect orbit along a controlled and steady path.  Din Djarin followed. 

He knew his child waited.

***

The Jedi stood peacefully near the seeing stones, his faithful droid beside him. Far beyond him, two figures approached each other, one small and clad in simple brown, the other tall in shining silver.  For a moment they stopped, frozen, the distance between them miniscule and yet immense. 

The Mandalorian sank to his knees, helmet forgotten beside him, arms opened.  The Child stepped forward into the waiting embrace, something silver flashing in his small hand.  And on the gentle breeze, the Jedi heard the sounds of laughter.

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

(Author’s note: We know that canonically, seeing stones or other places of great Force power can magnify a Force user’s powers, including telepathy.  Din is not Force-sensitive, but Force users with powerful bonds can reach those people more easily.  I like to think that Grogu kept sneaking out of the temple to go sit on those damn things and call on Din when he could reach his mind in sleep.  I also like to think Luke let him.)

[bellygunnr]

Of the Same Steel and Temper

John regarded Dr. Halsey calmly as she revealed the information he already knew-- Project MJOLNIR was entering its final stage, and he was a player in its execution. He doesn’t even smile as she continues to talk, only resting his holographic hand on the hilt of his holographic blade, allowing bits of his code to fritz together as he ran operations elsewhere. He was rather proud of his latest bit of detective work. Infiltration was his specialty.

Not that he enjoyed it, but he did like showing off his prowess in all tasks.

“I’ve already selected my teammate,” John announces, cutting off Dr. Halsey.

She stops short, raising an eyebrow, but expression otherwise unreadable.

“And who have you selected, John?” she says patiently.

John unsheathes his blade with a flourish and points theatrically at a picture frame on the corner of Dr. Halsey’s crowded, messy desk. In the picture, a single woman stood at attention while an Admiral-- Stanforth, he notes-- pinned the UNSC Legion of Honor to her chest. Her expression was relatively schooled, but a mischievous brand of fire shone in her eyes, permanently captured in eternity by the photo. He didn’t have to look at the other citations and medals weighing on her chest to know that she was well-accomplished.

A moment passes. When Dr. Halsey doesn’t say anything, seemingly unable to recover, John forges on.

“Master Chief Petty Officer Cortana-117,” he says, weighing each word carefully, “is a highly accomplished and experienced Spartan. I’ve taken the liberty of researching her thoroughly and I like what I’ve seen. As I speak, I am already calculating our compatibility and… find them within acceptable parameters.”

“It seems you have made up your mind, John,” Dr. Halsey says slowly. “But are you sure?”

“I do not dwell,” John says seriously. “She seems to know how to take action. I can appreciate that in a body.”

“But you know she excels particularly nowhere in terms of physical or mental prowess, yet is the most willingly to undertake risks. She got that medal by attacking Covenant head-on and saving Marines in the process.”

“I am aware. Again, that is something I can appreciate in a body, Dr. Halsey.”

John had wandered off from his holopad to stand inches away from Dr. Halsey’s face. His sword is back in its sheathe, hands clasped firmly behind his back. Under the lights, his ancient Spartan armor glitters emerald green and fire yellow, body rapidly shifting between the two colors.

Despite his level best efforts, his emotions tended to reveal themselves. He was tense and excited but most of all, determined. He would have Cortana as his teammate.

“And what of a mission if she were to become compromised? What would you do if she could die?”

John immediately tenses, his holographic form flashing a brilliant ruby red. A second later, it washes back into his neutral dark green, swirling across his stout frame in ragged bands of hue.

“I don’t think you should ask me questions you are not prepared to answer yourself, doctor,” he replies, affecting a flat tone. “You insult me.”

AI and human stare at each other. Dr. Halsey seems flustered, her thoughts visibly racing behind steely eyes. She cuts one last look at Cortana’s photo before allowing her demeanor to shift, conceding defeat with just a tip of her head.

“Very well, then, John. You can have her,” Dr. Halsey says. “Now, what of the rest of the mission?”

---

The differences in the new model of armor ranged from subtle to obvious. It was definitely heavier, but the modification of her neural implants made the weight negligible. If she was feeling generous, she might even say she was moving faster in this armor. There was also the addition of the shielding-- a shimmering electric layer that reminded her of oil spills on pavement. Iridescent and full of color, but dangerous.

But there was one more thing-- the second major change they had given Mjolnir. So far, it hadn’t come up at all, overshadowed by the shields. The shields were fantastic (as long as she didn’t slip and fall), but it was high time they moved along.

She cocks her head wordlessly at Dr. Halsey. In reply, Dr. Halsey withdraws something from her bag.

“Your own neural lace has been upgraded to better interact with the armor, as you may know,” she starts, “but it also it interface with an AI. A layer of memory-processor super-conductor has been added between the reactive and bio-layers of your armor.”

Cortana nods once. “The same stuff found in an AI’s core?”

“Correct. Your armor will be able to carry an AI-- the same kind that starships house. John will be able to interface between you and the suit. His primary objective will be to provide intelligence support while you’re on the field.”

“What does that entail?” Cortana says, tilting her helmet.

She liked AIs. They were useful and often had personality. She wasn’t sure about sharing her armor with one, however. John wasn’t even impressive name-- who went to all the trouble of making an AI just to name it John?

“John has been outfitted with the best of ONI’s computer infiltration routines and software. He is also equipped with Covenant translation programs. He’s also quite resourceful, but his specialty is, essentially, spywork,” Dr. Halsey replies.

Hm. So this John would be the AI they brought with them, should the upcoming test go well.

“How much… jurisdiction will he have over the suit?” she asks cautiously.

“None. You will have full control of it at all times. John will only be reading and translating the link you have between your brain and the suit-- and improving upon it, so expect that whatever you’re feeling now to be multiplied.”

Cortana liked the sound of that. Real-time intelligence data and greater physical performance? She would be unstoppable. Provided they got along, of course. But everything Halsey was telling her just raised more questions, but before she could ask, Halsey started talking again.

“I’m afraid we only have a small window of time. Please, kneel down so that we may insert the AI into the suit.”

Obediently, she takes a knee, bowing her head to expose the chip’s slot. There’s a moment of hands flicking something open, then a rush of ice water and pain jolts the back of her neck. The sensation trickles like water down the length of her spine before dissipating, leaving her strangely… the same.

Then the AI spoke, and everything was different.

“Hello, Master Chief,” a deep voice said. It was slightly raspy and reverberated in the suit’s speakers.

“Hello, John,” she answers, eyes wide. “Got enough room in there?”

“Not nearly enough. It will do… Thank you for asking.”

Oh. Well, at least he was honest. It was probably difficult to jam the processing power of a starship into the fractional space of her Mjolnir, though she had to wonder how he was compensating for it.

“Let’s begin the test. The conditions have been changed to involve combat-- not ideal, but it should provide ample opportunity for you two to become acquainted. The “win” condition of the test might be familiar to you, Cortana.”

“Ring the bell?” she guesses wryly.

“Indeed. Be careful, and be wary, Master Chief. I hardly need to remind you to be prepared when ONI is involved, but I will say it anyway. You are also authorized to neutralize any threats to accomplish the objective.”

Then Dr. Halsey leans in, voice low, worry lines etching deep into the contours of her face.

“Some would like to see you fail this test,” she says. “See that you don’t.”

“No, ma’am,” Cortana agrees.

Dr. Halsey nods once, then turns on her heel. Just before exiting the tent, however, she looks over her shoulder to stare into Cortana’s face plate, flanked by technicians.

“The second I leave this tent, you must count to ten. After that, make your way to the obstacle course where the bell will be located. And be careful,” she adds, voice firm. “Good luck.”

Cortana resists the urge to salute Dr. Halsey in jest. Instead, she shakes her body out, getting the feel for the armor one more time. As she wiggles her fingers, she hears the metallic clack of weapons from outside the tent.

Her HUD shimmers. The proximity tracker immediately lights up with yellow blips that turn red on the next cycle.

“Assume that all units are hostile,” John says. “The targets are equipped with MA5B assault rifles. Be prepared for my participation.”

“I hope you participate,” she says dryly. “What do you think about this? We’re engaging our own soldiers.”

Eight.

“We’ll win, but I am more excited to see how you handle this,” John says, a hint of emotion slipping into his gravelly voice.

Nine.

Cortana flicks her eyes across the walls of the tent, noting the surprisingly clear silhouettes of soldiers moving outside. She didn’t enjoy facing off against UNSC personnel, especially when they weren’t Spartans, but she never had a choice. Her apprehension only spikes when the shadowy figures become real, breaking into the tent with guns already brought to bear.

Shock troopers. ODSTs, to be exact.

Ten.

The center Helljumper opened fire on thin air. Cortana dove from her elevated platform before his finger could depress the trigger, but she didn’t target him right away. She ripped the rifle out from his port-side buddy’s hands and winced at the unmistakable sight of a shoulder dislocating. Still, she cracks the butt of the rifle across the lead’s chest before turning on the third, suddenly aware that she was in “Spartan Time.”

To her, the third trooper was moving in slow motion, still caught in the throes of reacting to his companions’ defeat. She rips his gun out of his hands and shoves him to the floor, biting back a sigh at the sensation of ribs cracking.

This suit was definitely a step above the last mark. If she didn’t want to hurt them, she’d have to restrain herself even more.

“That’s an odd notion,” John says suddenly. “You have been ordered to neutralize the targets. Why not kill them?”

Cortana frowns as she bustles out of the tent. Immediately, her motion tracker updates with seven more yellow blips that flash red. If she had to hazard a guess, John was forcing the suit to acknowledge the troopers’ FoF tags as ‘foe.’

Interesting.

“John. I think that might be murder.”

“We do need every soldier available,” he concedes.

The tracker’s blips appeared to be concentrated in another on-site tent. On the far side of the tent, she witnesses an ODST peek around the corner for three full seconds before abruptly withdrawing. A thrown grenade replaces them.

Cortana shoots it out of the air. It detonates in a shower of shrapnel and flame, jostling the tent with the shockwave and shredding holes into its roof, but not catching it alight. She’s cutting an entrance into the tent before the smoke and flak has even cleared.

The troopers are facing away from her, rushing for the exit in uniform, slow motion fashion. To her surprise, one twists around and opens fire, bullets pinging across her chest.

She slings the knife she’d been equipped with into his gut. Shielded or not-- and the shields did their job well, turning the impacts into tickles-- she didn’t take kindly to being shot. His buddies she pursues out of the tent, bringing the butt of her rifle to bear on the back of their skulls.

They drop instantly.

“Unconscious, not dead,” John chimes as she whips around to face the other four troopers. “Thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks,” she says shortly.

More bullets ricochet off her shields. The meter in the corner of her HUD blinks as it diminishes uncomfortably quickly, still un-replenished from the last round of projectiles. Not eager to damage the armor, she rushes forward, grabbing the closest trooper by the torso.

Effortlessly, she tosses his frame into his allies before grabbing up his gun, crushing the barrel. Her HUD wavers as a bolt of alarm flits through her, gaze drawn to the grenade the furthest ODST was trying to arm.

She lets her boots fall onto the arms of the first two troopers, determinedly not thinking about the state of their bones. She also does not think about how the alarm wasn’t her own, instead focusing on snatching up the final two soldiers by their chestplates and tossing them aside.

“Shoot them,” John hisses into her ear. “They’re not neutralized if they’re conscious or functional.”

“What do they have to gain by fighting me? I threw them forty meters!” Cortana exclaims. “I don’t want to hurt them, John.”

John doesn’t say anything but he does mark their position as nav-points on her HUD. She pointedly ignores him by stripping one of the downed soldiers for their grenades, which she promptly attaches to a magnetic hardpoint on her armor. With that done, she takes to the outer edges of the immediate area, making herself as hard to locate as possible.

The obstacle course is achingly familiar by the time she reaches it. It was an endless expanse of tough gravel, just over ten acres of the stuff. She remembered having to cross it bare-foot multiple times alongside her siblings; she could almost feel the ghostly sensation of rocks stabbing her soles.

Before she could step off, however, John speaks, low and urgent.

“Throw a grenade at the field.”

“That’s-- why?” Cortana asks, bewildered.

“There are Lotus mines and that’s the best way for me to calculate the layout. UNSC Engineers try to randomize the pattern, but humans are predictable creatures,” John says impatiently.

Well, it was as good as reason as any. She pulls a grenade from the stolen bandolier and arms it-- and holds it for three full seconds. With a controlled flick of her arm, she chucks it at the ground, watching it bounce once and explode.

Two Lotus mines explode in a geyser of gravel of dirt in reply several feet apart from each other.

“Give me a second,” John says. “Okay. These are rough estimations, but they shouldn’t get you killed. As you were, Master Chief.”

A graph flickers to life, overlaying itself perfectly across the gravel expanse. Yellow flower-like symbols join it in an affixed pattern, telling her what to avoid. That was… extremely useful.

“Don’t like that they’re using anti-tank mines,” she says, gravel crunching underfoot. “Seems a bit much.”

They make the trek across the gravel field in three minutes.

“Thanks, John. That’s really helpful,” Cortana says, making her sigh of relief productive.

“...There’s radio chatter on D band,” John says, his voice oddly pitched. “Encrypted and encoded, but it’s from the nearby airfield. I don’t like it.”

“That sounds exciting…”

But they had bigger things to worry about. After the gravel field was the long, narrow strip of mud and razor wire. It would be interesting to see how the armor’s shields fared against the constant scrape of barbed line. She doubts she could hunker low enough to avoid it entirely.

...If she didn’t get shot to hell first.

“Chain guns, 11 and 1 o’ clock,” John says, almost as soon as she notices them. “I advise evading. I do not feel like dying today.”

Crawling through the razor bed probably doesn’t count as evading, she thinks dryly. She’s glad for their incredibly slow rotation and similarly slow rate of fire at least. It meant that at least one was deactivated by the time she took off sprinting for it, firing at its power lines with her rifle.

There were two chainguns at the far end of the route, clearly meant to create a field of crossfire should she crawl. She’s silenced the one closest to her, but its cousin’s 30mm rounds punch into her chest, threatening to drop her shield into zero with just a handful of impacts.

She silences it by kicking the first chaingun into its chassis, toppling them both.

“Elegant,” John remarks once the residual firing stops. “I am going to investigate something. Don’t get shot.”

Cortana feels the AI slip out of her neural lace. To escape the sudden gaping emptiness, she charges into the rest of the razor-lined trenches. It gave her a few moments to reflect, too. John was an interesting AI. Not horrible to work with, if a little bossy. And vague, too.

If this didn’t feel so high stakes, she’d be arguing more.

Ice water rushes down her neck the same instant she comes up on the next stage of the obstacle course. Years ago, when they were all very young, the Spartans had dubbed this portion the ‘Pillars of Loki.’ It was a nightmarish network of smooth poles of wood-- razed trees-- interspersed with traps and danger. She’d seen the kind of damage the traps could cause.

She wasn’t keen on taking any of them on.

“The airfield is launching an aircraft,” John announces, his voice edged with anger. “A Skyhawk.”

Fuck.

“Language,” John says sternly. “Do you have any ideas? I calculate roughly 30 seconds before contact.”

Well, the best way to avoid traps was to go around them, right? She stares into the crisscross of pillars and deadly vegetation for a couple seconds too many. It would leave her too exposed to try skirting the borders of the field, but maybe climbing onto the poles…

Yeah, that would work.

Cortana scales the nearest tree with a certain lack of finesse. Her armored fingers leave indents in the hard wood and her boots gouge out chunks of bark and flesh from the pole, but she’s standing atop it with-- 15 seconds to spare.

A timer was now ticking down in the corner of her visor.

“Don’t know if that’s helpful, John,” she mutters.

“Bandit inbound,” John replies. “Ideas?”

She launches herself from one pole to the next, taking a diagonal route across the Pillars of Loki. The Skyhawk was an atmospheric fighter that specialized in close air support. It’s complement of four 50mm cannons and anti-tank missiles made it a terrifying and formidable ship, and against her?

Mjolnir, augmentations, AI assistance…

Well, she was as dead as any Covie soldier.

“Contact!” John barks.

The air thrums violently around Cortana as the aircraft bears down on her position. She kicks off of the pillar, free falling just as a spray of bullets sunder the air. Trees shatter into pieces behind her and the world blurs as she tucks into a roll, hitting the ground.

The Mjolnir’s gel layer absorbs much of the impact, but it still hurts.

“Eleven seconds! Goal: 300 meters!” John barks again.

“You’re yelling,” Cortana huffs, climbing to her feet. “No need to yell!”

Once again, a timer was ticking down on her HUD. Nine seconds and going. She was no Kelly, but how hard could a three hundred meter dash be?

Nothing achievable when it was rockets she was facing. The eight-seven-six seconds must be the Skyhawk’s turn time. Maybe she should run for cover.

“No time! New timer! About face!” John shouts, his voice so intense that it drowned out her own panicked thoughts.

Dirt and grass sprays with the force Cortana applies to twist herself around. Her HUD pulses red once before yet another timer pops up, accompanied by the silhouette of a missile. John’s presence inside her mind and suit is suddenly overwhelming.

“When the timer hits zero, the missile will be on top of us. Deflect it.”

John had a knack for sounding like a drill instructor. Or a suicidal admiral. Firm, commanding, unshakable, and slightly tyrannical.

The Skyhawk was hovering nearby. Plumes of white smoke erupt from its left wing as it lets loose a Scorpion missile. Cortana grinds her teeth, feeling a lurch as her brain overclocks into Spartan Time once again.

Three.

Cortana nearly falls over as the Mjolnir’s shields are ramped to their maximum settings.

Two.

The Skyhawk is bearing down on them, outpacing its missile.

“Now!”

Cortana jinks to the side, slapping the fuselage of the missile and sending it off course.

It still explodes several meters behind her. The resultant explosion knocks out her shields and launches her ten meters into the air. Darkness overwhelms her and several internal systems start wailing.

“Run like hell.”

She didn’t have to be told that twice, but her body is shaking violently as she hauls herself back to her feet. Her initial few strides are wobbly, growing steadier in fits and bursts. The goal’s nav-point is blurry and out of focus.

Oh, she was bleeding!

Cortana uses the bell’s tripod to stop her forward momentum. It collapses underneath her and crumples like a tin can, unable to stand up to a half-ton of armored Spartan.

She’s rewarded by the crackle of Dr. Halsey’s voice in her ear: “Test complete. Withdraw, Colonel Ackerson. Magnificent, Master Chief, but please don’t move. I’m sending a recovery team.”

She picks herself up from the bell. Despite its crushed state, she can tell it’s the very same bell she rung some thirty-odd years ago.

“We did it, John!” Cortana laughs. “That was… exhilarating.”

Gingerly, she sets the bell back onto the ground, panting and bleeding inside of her helmet. She probably broke her nose but that was nothing compared to the sense of peace she was now feeling. Whatever this had been, she had conquered it.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, either,” she says softly. “Thank you, John.”

“...Thank you, Master Chief,” John replies. “It was a pleasure working with you.”

Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?

[iliumheightnights]

We Have A Jedi [15] | Peter Parker x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Son Reader, Peter Parker x Male Reader

Summary: A distress call brings (M/N) back to earth, possibly for the last time.

Read from the beginning

A/N: HAHAHAHA We’re getting closer to the fun things. 

...

The Republic Cruiser Lightbringer.

(M/N) and Sheyo had joined their masters in the defense of the systems around Alderaan. As expected, the empire took the glassing of Alderaan as an opportunity to strike hard and fast against the surrounding systems. After a week of nonstop combat it seemed that things were finally stabilizing as the Empire was being pushed back from the Alderaan system.

Luckily, Alderaan, while being heavily devastated, was not as destroyed as they thought. Large portions of the planet were still habitable and there were still survivors. Still even with the planet remaining intact and with survivors, the casualty count was in the millions. The base that (M/N) and Sheyo had been in was completely obliterated, along with house Organa’s palace. Now that the fighting over the planet had finished, the rebuilding process was able to begin.

(M/N) was standing at the window in his room looking over the ravage planet. The devastation was large, but the sight of so many ships in orbit ready to help filled him with hope. No matter what this war would bring, hope would survive as long as everyone worked together. As he observed his comms went off, checking he saw it was coming from his father. This wasn’t a normal call though, it was a distress call.

(M/N) couldn’t answer the call since it was only putting out a beacon. He quickly called his mom who came in no time. “(M/N) what is it?” He didn’t waste any time in showing her the beacon. “It’s from my old communicator. It’s from dad. He’s in trouble. We have to help.” Janai sighed and rubbed her face. “I’m sorry (M/N). I know you want to help your dad but we can’t. If the council finds out we left they’d come after us, I’ll protect you know matter what. I’m sorry but we’re not going.” She didn’t say anything else as she left the room. “Well I am.” He muttered under his breath. 

Grabbing his things he went to find Sheyo. “Looking for me?” He turned to find his friend coming up to him. “Your mom said for me to keep an eye on you. Where are we off to?” He smiled at her before pulling her along. The two made it to the hangar and found the shuttle they had arrived on. “Alright. We’re going to have to be quick to get out of here. We're going to get in a lot of trouble...you sure you want to come?” Sheyo nodded. “Yep. If someone’s in trouble, we’re supposed to help. Plus you’re my best friend, we’re gonna get in trouble together.” 

They both checked around and when the coast was clear they both booked it for the shuttle. What they hadn’t expected when they boarded was to see Janai and Master Dia there. “So, what part of we’re not going did you not understand?” Janai said. “Sheyo. You know better than this.” Dia said, causing Sheyo to close up a bit. “You’re not going to let this go are you?” Janai asked (M/N), who nodded. “I can’t just leave them. Ignoring the fact he’s my father, we can’t just let people who need our help down!” Janai sighed. “What do you say Dia? Up for a side trip back to Earth?” Dia smirked and went to the ship's controls. “Wouldn’t be the first time I disobeyed the council for you.”

That's how the small group found themselves on their way to earth. “So your father didn’t say anything?” Sheyo asked him. “No. It’s just a beacon. But I have a feeling something really bad has happened.” If only he was wrong. Arriving at Earth they followed the location of the beacon and stumbled on something they weren’t expecting. “Is that...is that city flying?” In front of them a large chunk of the ground was being lifted up by repulsors with a city on it. “We got tons of heat signatures. There’s still people up there...and a lot of electric kinetic energy. Like...a LOT.” Janai stood up and walked to the door of the ship. “Dia. Keep this shuttle airborne. (M/N), Sheyo, with me. We’ll help out with whatever’s going on.” 

The door of the shuttle opened and the three jedi jumped to the city below. The city had been ravaged, people ran around them afraid. It reminded (M/N) of the battle of New York years ago. “There!” Sheyo pointed out and he turned to see droids landing on the ground, seeming to be targeting anyone really. “Take them out! Defend the civilians!” The three ignited their lightsabers and pushed the attack.

(M/N) deflected the bolts of energy back onto the droids, destroying them. Sheyo joined by his side and helped cut through the oncoming waves of enemies. “So, is it just me or do these things look like a messed up version of your dad’s ironman suit?” It was only then that (M/N) actually took a closer look at the droids. Sheyo was right, the droids had a similar face plate to his fathers but had a bit of a difference. “Oh dad, what did you do?”

“Incoming!” His mother shouted and he saw a large wave of droids rushing their way. “There’s too many of them for us to handle!” Sheyo said. (M/N) quickly surveyed the surrounding area to find anything that might help them. That help came in the form of a wrecked bus. Perfect. He reached out both hands and focused on the bus. It took everything from him to lift the wreck and launch it at the wave of incoming hostels. The good news was that it took out a large chunk of the droids, allowing the three to cut the rest down.

Dia’s voice cut through the comms. “These things are trying to take me out but I’m handling it. A new ship arrived...a big one! But they seem to be friendlies they’re helping evacuate civilians. They could use some more help though.” The three didn’t need to be told again and made their way to the location. Upon their arrival (M/N)’s eyes widened as he saw the helicarrier. He thought they had been destroyed when Steve told him about the whole Hydra ordeal. Speaking of Steve, he saw the supersoldier and Nat helping protect the people from the droids.

A swarm of droids descended on the civilians and (M/N) rushed to protect. He watched as Steve became surrounded and he quickly sprung into action. Jumping over a wrecked car he ignited his blades and sliced through the droids. He blocked some blaster fire and started speaking. “I leave for a couple days and this is what happens? Aren’t you supposed to be earth’s mightiest?” He smirked and Steve let out a laugh grabbing his shield before throwing it at the droids. “Hey, blame your dad for this one.” (M/N) jumped over Steve and cut the head off another droid. “Oh I am! Now where’d this carrier come from? I thought you said they were all destroyed!” He blocked more bolts and Steve smashed his shield into the chest of another droid. “Fury.” He simply said and (M/N) nodded his head. “Sounds about right.”

The sound of familiar repulsors came to his ears and he looked up to watch his father fly past firing at some droids that were flying. He also noticed how Rhodey had joined the fight. “When did he join the avengers?” He also watched as a man with what looked like wings flew by. “And who’s that?” Steve smiled and patted (M/N)’s shoulder. “Sam. Come on, we have to protect the core!” Janai followed (M/N) but Sheyo stayed with the civilians. “Go! I’ll protect the people here. Go protect whatever the core is!” 

Steve and Nat lead them to where the core was. They were met with the others and his father quickly hugged him. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be out there.” (M/N) stopped and pulled back looking at Tony confused. “What do you mean? I came because of the distress beacon you sent out.” Tony seemed confused, even through the armor. “I didn’t send out any beacon.” A robotic voice called out. “I did.” He turned to see another droid but looked much more put together than the others. “Welcome home (M/N) Stark. Let’s see if the jedi are actually up to par.”  (M/N) ignited his lightsabers, Janai joining him. “Is this the best you can do!?” Thor shouted at the droid. In that moment a large swarm of droids came rushing. “You just HAD to ask. Didn’t you?” (M/N) glared at Thor who smiled sheepishly.

The main robot continued his speech. “This is what I wanted. All of you against me. How could you possibly hope to stop me?” Tony powered up his suit again and stood firm next to his son. “Well,like the old man said. Together.” And in an instant (M/N) was once again fighting side by side with the avengers. During the fight, (M/N) noticed three new members he hadn’t met yet. One was a man who was incredibly fast, another was a woman who seemed to have a strange red glow around her, the other a man who could fly...and was that the mind stone?!

During the fight he also found out what the head droid’s name was. Ultron. The flying man with the mind stone shot out a beam knocking Ultron away from the rest of the attack, Thor and Tony followed after shooting their own beams at the droid. Not wanting it to get away (M/N) focused on the force and thought of a technique he had never tried before. He had only seen it be used by Master Plo once before. It was the Jedi's version of force lightning. Force Judgement. He shot out his hands and orange bolts of lightning began zapping Ultron. He could have sworn he saw Thor smirk at him. (M/N) even smirked as he watched the lightning hit Ultron, he was able to actually do it. He used force judgement! They all stopped firing on Ultron. “You know, with the benefit of hindsight…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence as Hulk came in and punched him, sending him flying. “Hey Hulk!” The colossal green man turned to (M/N) who lifted up a thumb. “Nice work bud!” Hulk smiled and grinned at him before running off. Ultron’s bots began retreating. “We can’t let them leave the city!” His dad said. “We have another problem, the airs getting thin. We need to hurry up.” Janai said approaching them.

The civilians still needed to be evacuated and (M/N) found himself following Steve, Nat and Clint. “So...you come from space?” (M/N) looked at the man beside him, the new one. “Yep. And you run fast.” The man faked an insulted look. “You insult me. I’m the fastest man alive.” (M/N) shook his head and rolled his eyes but let a chuckle escape him. At least if he died here he died in good company. Steve was sweeping for stragglers while the rest had met up with Sheyo and helped evacuate the remaining people. The evacuation had been going alright and (M/N) was making sure that no bots got close enough to anyone. Then he felt like something was off. He turned and watched as Clint grabbed a boy and Pietro, the new man, seemed to rush for him. He noticed an ultron bot begin firing at Clint and the boy, but Pietro would be the one to take them. No, he wasn’t going to lose anyone today. Without even thinking (M/N) let out a scream releasing all of his anger and the bot and it’s bullets froze in time. Clint and Pietro looked at the frozen bot and (M/N). With his anger, (M/N) brought his hands together and the bullets and bot came crushing in on itself. Clint, the boy and Pietro were alright. They were alive. (M/N) became light headed and leaned on the side of a building. He had just tapped in and used the darkside. What the scariest part was, was how natural it came to him. Soon he found himself being lifted up and quickly moved. Pietro had moved him to one of the boats. “You stay here. You’ve done enough protecting people!” Then Pietro was gone, going to find his sister. The last thing (M/N) noticed was Hulk jumping after a jet before falling into darkness.

…

He woke up in a nice bed. Around him were monitors and wires, so he was in a med room. Unlike other med rooms and units he had been in, this one actually seemed more relaxed and comfortable. There was a window and he noticed how he was on the ground, not in the air. He wondered what happened? What remained of that city? Did all the people escape? Then he thought of what happened before he passed out. He used the dark side. The one thing he was never supposed to do and he did it. He stopped thinking of it, if he continued to think over it, it would consume him.

Sitting up, he stepped out of the bed. The machines began to beep but (M/N) simply turned them off. He was still dressed like how he had when they arrived. He moved to the door and opened it up to an empty hallway. He looked around him but didn’t recognize where he was. “You’re awake!” He recognized that voice. With a rush of air, Pietro was standing in front of him smiling at him. “Welcome back my friend! I gotta say you scared us there with how quickly you passed out.” Another voice joined them. “Oh leave him alone.” The woman that was there too walked up to them leaning on Pietro. “I’m Wanda. We haven’t gotten to meet yet. My brother told me about what you did. Thank you for saving his life.” (M/N) rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “No problem. Didn’t want to lose anyone, especially the ONE person with an actual sense of humor.” They all laughed, but Wanda began walking. “Come on. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you’re awake.”

The twins took him to another room where Tony and Steve were talking with Janai, Dia and Sheyo. “(M/N)! You’re awake!” Sheyo shouted when she spotted him. His mother smiled at him but Tony charged at him pulling him into a hug. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” (M/N) patted Tony’s back. “Love you too dad.” Steve came up and patted (M/N)’s shoulder. “Pietro and Clint told us what happened. Good work kid.” (M/N)’s smile faltered a bit but only a bit. “I’m sorry to interrupt this touching moment, but I hate to say we must be leaving. We’ve been gone for too long already.” Janai said and (M/N) felt how his father deflated a bit. “Oh, yeah of course. Better get going.” He could see how Tony was down again and (M/N) was going to say something when the man with the mind stone came floating through the wall! “Excuse me sir. There’s a ship approaching the base.” Everyone was confused. “Ship? What do you mean Vision?” 

Exiting the base, they watched as a ship came flying towards the base. “Oh no.” Janai said, then turning to Tony. “Don’t say anything. You know us as friends from when I was here years ago.” Tony and the others seemed confused. “That’s a Jedi ship. This isn’t about to be good.” The ship landed and the ramp opened. (M/N)’s breath hitched as he watched five temple guards walk down the ramp. (M/N) and Janai walked forward. “Janai Udera. You have been summoned by the Jedi Council.” The head guard said. Janai bowed. “Off course. My padawan and I shall leave immediately.” The guard held up a hand. “He will go, but not as your padawan.” The man turned to (M/N). “(M/N) Stark, for breaking the rules of the Jedi order you are placed under arrest. You will be stripped of your weapons and taken before the Jedi Council to be judged.” The other guards surrounded him, taking his lightsabers and igniting their own creating a block between him and the avengers. “Master Dia. You and your padawan shall return to your original assignment of protecting the Alderaan system. Do not make us return for you.” Master Dia bowed at the man. “Of course.” The head guard turned and walked back up the ramp. (M/N) gave one last look at the avengers and saw how his dad looked so confused, sad and angry. Then he was being pushed forward by the guards.

The door of the ship closed and (M/N) wondered. What was going to happen now?

[highsviolets]

of hyperdrives & hands: engineer!reader x obi-wan

summary: you’re fixing the hyperdrive on the Negotiator when a mysterious being pays you a visit.

word count: I honestly have no idea bc i wrote this whole thing on my notes app in the car lmao. (sorry if the formatting is weird/there are typos!!)

rating: G. but also, this is basically a love letter to Ewan McGregor’s gorgeous hands.

A/N: fulfilling a request for the lovely @aty-cgca7! ily, chasity! I hope it’s everything you were looking for 💖 also I know nothing about engineering or computers or hyperdrives so don’t come for me y’all 😂

of hyperdrives & hands, a fic by corellians-only

Brow furrowed in concentration, you squint in the hazy light. Reaching up to your forehead with your left hand, you slide your fingers across the surface of your skin, batting away renegade wisps of hair that had fallen away from your bun.

Maker, but it was warm down here, in the maw of this behemoth ship. You curse softly to yourself as a bead of sweat hovered perilously close to your eyelash, threatening to obscure your vision as you strain to locate the loose wire that had sent you onto the Negotiator in the first place. Hadn’t your father always warned your that space was cold? When you told him you had joined the Civilian Engineer Corps to help with the war effort, he had even cracked a joke about adding extra layers to your uniform.

You frown. Clearly, accomplished pilot though he was, you father had never been in the hyperdrive control center of a Republic Venator-class Star Destroyer.

Catching your distraction, you shake your head. No. You needed to focus. Now was not the time to question your father’s supposed space travel wisdom. There’s a job to be done. Hyperdrives did not fix themselves.

There she is. Rather than simply becoming disconnected, the wire had split in two, snapping under the pressure from the processing core directly above the unit. This was going to be more complicated than you thought.

For a few hours, the only sounds that filled the room were soft snip of wirecutters and the gentle thrum of the engines. As you start re-routing the stray wire, your mind begins to wander.

You had heard stories about Star Destroyers with entire hangers of processing cores for the shields alone. That their nav computers were the most accurate in the galaxy. That their holo encryption system was unbreakable (it wasn’t. You had written and sliced a viral code into their data key a few standard months back, just to see if you could). This was your first time on such a warship when it was in space, and while it was impressive, at the end of the day, it ran like any other ship.

Tali had been even aboard General Secura’s flagship, the Liberty, for a supply dump once and she swore that their weapons systems were the most flawless thing she had ever seen - barring General Kenobi, of course, she had added with an impish grin tossed your way.

Your not-so-subtle crush on the dashing General was an open secret among your platoon of female engineers. Most of them assumed it was because he was pretty and famous — he was on nearly every holomag cover, after all — but you knew better. You knew he was a good man. His hands told you so.

The first time you had seen General Kenobi, you had been playing in the undercity of Coruscant when a boy a little older than yourself had stopped to ask what you were building with the rubble left behind from an explosion caused by the nascent Black Sun cartel a few days earlier.

“I don’t know,” you had responded belligerently, upset at your endeavors having been interrupted - and by a boy, no less. “Why do you have a braid in your hair?” you continued. “I thought only girls had braids.”

The boy had adjusted his stance to stand up taller. “I’m going to be a Jedi,” he proclaimed. “I’m Obi-Wan,” he offered with a smile. His eyes flashed suddenly, and with a quick thrust, his hand extended into the dusty air. A sheet of durasteel that had been hovering precariously at the tip of the heap was now suspended in midair, mere centimeters from crashing down on your head. Even in the grim half-light of the slums, you could see sapphire eyes earnestly fixed on the hunk of metal. Strong, lithe fingers gestured gracefully. The object fell with a great crash a few meters away.

You could only stare in awe.

The faint sound a male voice calling had caused him to twist his head and listen. “I have to go.” He frowned. “Master Qui-Gon is calling me. I hope I see you again some day.”

He bowed slightly, then turned and trotted back toward his Master.

You had never been quite able to forget the teenager with pretty hands who had saved your life.

Nearly two decades later, you had seen him again. You and Tali had been sipping cups of caf before your shifts in the makeshift mess hall of a personnel loading area when you sensed his presence. Not in a Jedi way - you didn’t have a lick of Force sensitivity, you knew - but in the way you noticed that everyone seemed to speak a little softer and trail their eyes after the passing figure in white armor.

He had strode past the the two of you, hardly sparing a glance at two female civilian engineers and pointedly ignoring the sheer weight of the gazes trained on him. Later, over a pint of lomin ale, Tali has raved about his hair, and how “he had a shoulder to hip ratio that was sharper than a vibroblade, didn’t you notice?”

You had taken a sip of your drink and laughed good-naturedly at Tali’s antics. You had noticed him, to be sure, but you had been transfixed by his hands, not his muscles.

Back in the days before the war, when you were still a little girl, your father Aves had always told you to take note of a being’s hands. In the present moment, you smile as you refit the access panel on the hyper drive’s core reactor as a the memory comes to mind.

Even though he was a good father, Aves had been a man of mystery. Whatever it was he did for a living, it had blessed him with an intimate knowledge of guns, starships, and computers, and he had passed everything he knew on to his “blazing sun,” he used to call you affectionately.

“Blazing sun,” he would instruct you, “you can tell a lot about a being by their hands.” When he was satisfied he had captured your attention, the impression of a smile glowed across his face. He resumed cleaning his carbine rifle as he spoke, his voice low and smooth. “You can tell a lot about a being by their hands,” he intoned again. “Their trade. Their social class. How they hold a weapon. What kind of weapons they use. If they can pilot a ship. If their mind is focused or skittish.” The tall man had shrugged gently, an action that seemed counterintuitive to the grade A contraband blaster now resting comfortably in his expert grip. A new power pack slapped into place with a precise snap. “If you ever want to know someone” — he tucked a stray hair behind your ear tenderly, the other hand still clutching the blaster — “look at their hands.”

You begin tapping out routine codes on the core reactor to test the replacement wire. The various combinations of letters and numbers in basic and binary were muscle memory, and you stared in awe as your own fingers punch in the digits seemingly of their own volition.

Yes, it was General Kenobi’s hands that most enraptured you, you decided. Slender, calloused (you supposed - not that you had ever had the pleasure of testing that theory for yourself), extensions of strong, well muscled arms that indicated a strong degree over his motions. He had held them so softly at his sides that day in the mess hall. They had gestured animatedly as he walked alongside a clone commander, a graceful arc to his movements that made you think he would be a good dancer — or a formidable fighter.

The klaxon of an alarm drives you from your reverie. “Oh, kriff.” The latest code you had entered seemed to have caused the wires to short circuit, tripping an internal safety alarm.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff.” You continue to swear violently as you all but run over to the central computer console and entering a code to kick-start a program to halt the shrieking din. Within the minutes, the alarm bells stop, and you sag against the console in relief.

“Is something the matter?” a rich tenor voice asks from behind you.

Immediately you tense. In a singular, practiced motion, you pivot on your left heel and whip your blaster into your right hand simultaneously, turning to face the voice in a fighting stance.

“Freeze!” you call into the shadows. Your eyes scan the cavernous room methodically before settling on a spot a few meters in from the doorway where the light seems distorted. You take aim with your blaster.

“Justice, freedom, faith,” the disembodied voice replies calmly from the same spot.

Your eyes narrow. Whoever the being was, they had given the correct password. But the upper-class Coruscanti accent didn’t belong to anyone in your platoon, and who else would be prowling around the underbelly of General Kenobi’s flagship? There had been faint rumors of a lightsaber wielding Separatist operative. Maybe they were coming to sabotage the ship? Well, not on your watch.

“Step into the light,” you order, durasteel edging into your voice. “Keep your hands above your head.” The contours of the blaster are cool, comforting in your grip, soothing the blood rushing just beneath the surface.

A tall auburn-haired man steps into the light, arms raised. “Will this suffice?” he asked wryly, amusement playing across his features as you feel shock and embarrassment creep up your neck and onto your cheeks.

Stars above. I almost shot General Kenobi. A thousand thoughts race through your mind faster than light speed - some witty, some pragmatic.

But of course, what slips out is neither of those.

“Fierfek, you startled me,” you manage to spit out instead. It’s only your steel will that prevents you from collapsing from embarrassment on the spot. Feigning nonchalance you decidedly do not feel about almost murdering a war hero and childhood crush, you holster your weapon and turn back to the console.

“I gathered as much,” he returns, amusement still coloring his tone.

The room fell silent for a few moments as you run system diagnostics.

“What is it you’re working on?” This time, he’s so near you can feel the heat of his breath on the back of your neck. Well honed reflexes are faster than your brain, though, and it isn’t until you feel a gentle pressure on your elbow that you realize it’s raised to jab him in the throat.

General Kenobi’s chuckle seems to fill the room. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to kill me?” he murmurs. A shiver runs up your spine despite yourself and you feel your stomach start to coil.

You stare at the data steaming on the console until your eyesight begins to blur. “That depends. Are you trying to kill me, sir?” Maker, but you were mouthy today. What was wrong with you?

Kenobi releases your arm dropping his to his side. Immediately, you feel bereft somehow with the loss of his touch.

Peering over your shoulder, he asks, “hyperdrive problems?”

Kriff, does that man not realize what he is doing to you, muttering in your ear like that? Of course he doesn’t, you dolt, you tell yourself; he’s a Jedi. Not his fault you’ve had a crush on him since you were nearly eight years old.

“A replacement wire short-circuited the system and triggered an emergency code,” you respond as evenly as you can manage. A fresh sweat breaks out across your forehead as another complex code dances across the screen.

“What code is that?” He reaches out as though he could absorb the masses of data contained in the system through osmosis. Maybe he can. You’re not a Jedi.

The movement serves a different purpose for you. Something wet and bright glistens as his hand moves into the blue light of the console.

“You’re bleeding.”

He glances down and grimaces. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Blood is starting to gather around an incision slashed across his right hand.

He opens his mouth to retort no doubt, but you beat him to it. “Don’t give me that bantha dung about Jedi business.” A grease stained finger jabs in the direction of his chest.

Kenobi’s face remains impassive. When he doesn’t respond, you roll your eyes, and, tugging at his elbow, drag him over to the glow lamp near your workstation.

He continues to scrutinize you, and you look down at yourself, wondering what he’s staring at. Your coverall sleeves are rolled up, there’s sweat gathering at your collarbone, and you feel the grimy mixture of dust and stale perspiration coating your face. You’re a hot mess if there ever was one.

Resolutely, you ignore the flush on your cheeks and the steel of his gaze and rummage for a bandage in the care pack attached to your hip. Several excruciating seconds later you find one and tear it open.

It’s when you’re grasping his hand in one of yours the he finally speaks. “I’ve seen you before.”

His cool composure inspires a sudden flash of irritation. “You seem rather certain sir,” you say as you apply a bacta salve.

“Because I am,” he responds mildly. His hand grips yours tightly when you apply the bandage, and you almost asphyxiate on the spot. You were right — his hands are calloused.

“Well, consider this your repayment from saving a girl from durasteel in the Coruscant under-levels about twenty years ago,” you answer with a quick smile. It’s hard to be angry when Obi-Wan Kenobi is in effect, holding your hand.

Reluctantly you release him from your grasp, letting your hand drift down to your side.

The General inclines his head in thanks, then glances back at the computer. “Is the hyperdrive fixed, then?”

You nod, stuffing supplies back into your pack. “I modified the code and replaced the wire so it should be okay.” You meet his eyes. “I’ll be with the ship until it returns to Coruscant, so if there any problems I’ll be available to assist, sir.”

You turn to leave, but he reaches out and catches your hand. “And who do I have to thank for such diligent caretaking of both my ship and my hand?” he inquires. His touch is like satin against your dirty hands and you grin in spite of it.

You consider for a moment. “A blazing sun,” you tell him.

You smile as you make your back to your quarters. Yes, you could tell a lot about a person by their hands.

[foulserpent]

ned meets sheogorath (1836 words)

cw: suicide mentions

"HELLO Nedirael! Glad you could make it out here!" the voice boomed, familiar and all the more alien for it. 

Ned stood across the hall of a grand throne room, weary and bedraggled and half clad in a weak leather armor he’d found himself not needing. A great tree loomed in back, its leaves an autumnal blaze of reds and oranges that bathed the room alien sunlight. Two torches burned a bright icy blue and a pink to either side of the throne, setting the stained glass to either side into a dizzying array of sparkles far too overwhelming to see what they depicted. Everything seemed to bend inwards, space itself being pulled to a singularity at the center.

There sat Sheogorath.

They looked a lot like Xikeel, much as they did when they had appeared to Ned weeks before, almost a decade after he had last seen his friend alive. They were a brighter red and crowned with teal horns, with scales that reflected with iridescence in every color he could imagine and some beyond that. They wore a robe almost equal in vividness and fluttering ceaselessly. It hurt Ned's head to try and see where embroidered fabric ended and tiny, colorful butterflies began. 

Perhaps most striking of all was the beard. How the hell had she grown a beard?

"Hi, Xikeel." Ned said as he made his way down the aisle.

Sheogorath shifted in their seat, resting their hairy chin on three hands with an expression of exaggerated annoyance. Some butterflies swarmed upwards, before settling back into the shape their sleeve.

"Don't you know my name?" Sheogorath asked. "I didn't work so hard just for nasty little mammals to come in here and call me all manners of nonsense words."

The butterfly-robe scattered yet again, their little bodies intertwining and blending like paint on a brush to form another scaly arm. The daedra began to drum that hand onto the throne.

Ned grimaced. If there was any doubt that his old friend had really changed into something else, it was dead and buried.

"For fucks sake Xikeel," he said, ignoring the daedra's many eyes rolling. "I thought you were dead, I thought- I thought the Blades took you out, or you went off and, uh,"

"Tried the same thing you did? And did a better job at it?" Sheogorath grabbed the edge of thin air and lifted off of their throne. They made a great show of crossing their legs in midair, before slouching into another relaxed position. 

"No, no, no, your friend just got lost. Can't blame her. It's sooooo much nicer here than out there!" They punctuated by even more arms flinging themselves into existence in a gesture of pride, before dissipating into more fluttering insects.  

"So, what actually brings you here? Surely not just to stand around and gawk."

“I-” Ned started, but he was interrupted. 

"I hope you like my palace? And my realm? I changed things up around here. My saints really want to kill you, and most of the beasts here wanted to eat you or lay eggs in you, but I told them, 'no! This is a guest of honor!'"

The Golden Saints half hidden in the dizzying light of the room gave no acknowledgment, though they all stared down at him with unblinking needle-slit pupils. Ned continued to ignore them.

"Okay, so if you aren't Xikeel, then what makes me the goddamn ‘guest of honor’?" He asked.

"I mean, if you want my Saints to hunt you for sport I guess I'm open to-"

"No, no, I'm good." Ned interjected. “I’m just. What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened to me. Well, something did. Happens every thousand years or so, but I’m back to normal. I’m my own man. I’m brand new!” Sheogorath cheered, then lowered their head in seriousness. “And to answer your obvious question, your friend helped with that. So I returned the favor. Said goodbye for her. Like, ten or a hundred years or something late, but I did. Sorry, I forgot.” 

Ned felt his head start to ache. 

“I didn’t come all this way to listen to this, I mean holy fuck are you getting this?” He threw his arms out. “I thought you were dead.”

“Well, that’s kind of a you problem, isn’t it?” Sheogorath yawned.

Ned’s rubbed his face in exasperation, sucking air between his teeth.

"Xikeel... Can you please-" He paused, a stupid question forming in his throat. He already regretted it before it clumsily fell from his tongue. "Please just stop it?"

Sheogorath gave him a blank stare.

"Oh, okay!" The daedra said. 

With a puff of smoke, Xikeel stood before him. She was as he remembered, small and spindly, dull red and broken-horned. She wore the same cheap shirt and trousers as that final day. Everything was just as he'd last seen her, standing in the doorway ten years ago, saying "I'm going out" and getting only an "okay" in return, walking out of the door and out of his life and out from the world.

Ned froze at the sight of his friend. He could scarcely bring himself to breathe, feeling as if the very act would blow her away. She gave him a smile - just slightly parted teeth. Not an argonian smile, but one she would give to him, to Martin. A gesture that could soothe a mammalian friend more easily than the subtleties of argonian facial expression. She smiled under blank, golden eyes.

"Did you really think that would work?"

Ned went cold.

Xikeel's body twisted back into oblivion.  It stretched and lengthened until they were something like a dragon, long and blazing and too familiar. They danced in airborne circles around Ned, trailing sparks as they passed.

"Alright, here's one for you. Imagine you find the last surviving shard of your family, blackout drunk, drowning in a river!" They spat the words like venom.

Ned's stomach dropped even further.

"And you pull it out and pull the water from its lungs, and you say, 'Please don't go! I need you!'" They shrieked. A mockery of tears bubbled up from Sheogorath's many eyes as the daedra swam in dizzying loops around the man. "I need you so much! I can't do this alone, please!" They cried.

"And after all that, after everything, it does it again. And it punches your idiot face when you try to stop it!" Sheogorath spun one last loop, catching the tears in their cavernous mouth before swooping up towards the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." Ned said.

He had just wanted to die. He had enough of getting back onto his feet only to have everything he built be ripped out from under him again. He had been so tired of being kicked and beaten until he was reduced to some scarred thing that somehow hadn't yet learned not to rest its head in any open hands that were offered to it. He had only seen one way out. God, he didn't want to hurt her. 

Sheogorath now twisted in tight spirals, filled with some frenetic energy and half screaming.  "Yeah, that really is the kind of thing that changes a person! You're getting it now!"

"I'm sorry." Ned said. "I'm so sorry, Xikeel."

Sheogorath dropped like a shot bird, landing on four legs with a heavy thud. They crawled towards Ned with a terrible speed. The man flinched but did not move. The daedra loomed to their full height, sticking their whiskered snout into his face.

"Who are you apologizing to?"

Ned's face contorted with pain. Finally, a sob tore through his throat.

"Who are you apologizing to?!" Sheogorath roared, yellow eyes flashing like stars far beyond the border of their face. They cut golden fractals through his tears.

"Who are you apo-" Sheogorath was cut off as the man flailed, batting their face away. Ned stepped back, frame now wracked with sobs. He dragged in a shuddering breath, and screamed.

"Fucking STOP IT!"

The palace was silent. A heavy absence now choked out the air. Ned's shuddering gasps came to Sheogorath as if through water, a thick dark river their gills fluttered against in vain.

"Xikeel.. I know... I know..." Ned trailed off as he broke into sobs.

Sheogorath hadn't felt the man's touch. They weren't this body, they were the whole room. They were the whole city. They were the whole realm. The body was merely a face for it, cradled in the daedra's own churning belly. How had it felt the man's touch?

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The daedra did not have tear ducts. Their eyes could hardly even be called eyes, really. They came and went as they pleased. 

"I'm sorry."

Sheogorath did not know if it was the man who now spoke, or their own. They didn't move closer. They just sat on the ground and bent their head.

Bridged in misery, the two rode out their sobs.

"This place isn't safe for you." Sheogorath finally said. Their voice came out a soft monotone. It was smaller now, too much of a fragile hollow-boned thing to come out of a god's mouth.

"I know, I know."

"People who come in here have a hard time getting out, sometimes."

Ned laughed. It caught in his throat and shuddered into another sob. "You think?" He asked.

Sheogorath slithered next to him. He didn’t look at them, far too occupied with wiping tears from his face, which fell in spite of his efforts. His wet face sparkled in the firelight, and he was smiling in a way hurt things do. Sheogorath took one last look, setting all these features to memory and holding them close.

Ned finally looked her in the eyes.

Without another word, Sheogorath opened their mouth and swallowed him. For just a split second, Ned saw an alien sky full of stars. He was a weightless mote, adrift in a sea that stretched shoreless long past any horizon. Wind whipped his sides, eroded him away to a core and back again.

Then, warmth. A sun that was not his sun caressed his skin yet again. He realized, with a start, that he'd been holding his breath.  

He opened his eyes.

Ned stood on the edge of the portal where he had come in just a day before. Brightly colored butterflies drifted around the edges, burning to sparks as they hit the barrier and flaring back into life as they bounced away. He was alone again. Unharmed and untouched, with eyes still burning with stars and tears. His breath came in shudders.  

He was facing the twisted reflection of his own world, far away beyond comprehension and close enough to touch. It was morning. There was the lake near Bravil, the treeline in the distance. He thought he even saw the dim outline of the tent Shap had pitched to wait for him.

The message was clear. It was whispered in the wind, punctuated in the beating of chitinous wings.

Go home.

"I’m sorry.” Ned whispered.

Go home.