#because he would speak out against the empire

[kafkasmuses]

CALIGULA — luke castellan + reader : luke castellan, in all his reign, has a love for sexual pleasure, more importantly with you. 

tags: mdni, inspired by ancient roman stories, luke is a pervert, dark!luke, p in v sex, jealousy, possessiveness, assistant!reader, captain!luke, luke is an awful man in this sawry

a/n: ive been binge watching the roman empire show

LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR. 

41 AD. 

luke castellan can’t deny how harsh of a captain he was on the princess andromeda. 

he wanted to be the best captain on the sea, wanted to get his revenge on camp halfblood and the gods, wanted to live the lavish life he had always dreamed of. he thought of a life where he would drink red wine out of chalices, be fed grapes from the hands of beautiful women, or men, he wanted to be treated like a god— because in his mind, he would be the best god to ever exist. 

you started out as his assistant, writing papers for him on a simple typewriter that he gave to you, a fucking typewriter. you tried to remind him it was no longer the 1950s, he scoffed like you were stupid. “you know people used them in the 1800s, right?” 

your lips press together, looking at him, then the typewriter, then back to him. you offer a small smile, and he doesn’t return it, he never does, and he never will. luke took things very seriously, maybe too seriously, so he never let himself smile, let alone laugh, a bitter scoff was all you’d get from him at most. 

you were pliant, luke noticed, and he liked that. you did everything he asked, every time he asked. he’d call your name, and hear your heels clicking against the wooden floorboards no less than a second later. speaking of heels, luke was strict about dress codes, too. 

to call him a pervert.. well, you wouldn’t be far off. 

he wanted you to wear things like tight pencil skirts, short or long, thin tights, maybe even solely stockings, stiletto heels that he’d purchased for you the second he saw you show up in mary janes, and a simple shirt or blouse. he liked glasses, too, thin, square framed ones, like bayonetta’s. 

you had to wear dark red lipstick, regardless. 

you hated your boss, more than anything, the way he’d walk into a room and easily command it, the way his body language reeked of cockiness, the way that despite all evilness, he still thought he was doing something for the greater good. 

what you hated the most, is how much you fantasized about him. 

that’s why you always ran to him so quick when he called out for you, why you endured the loud clacking of the typewriter keys even when you had to do a paper at night and he opened your door to yell at you to ‘shut the fuck up or get thrown off the damn boat.’ 

he was never a good man, nor a good boss, but he looked good. 

you liked when he was angry, when he yelled at you, when he held your jaw so tight you were sure he’d shatter it and spit degrading words at you like you were vile. it should be such a shame that you enjoy it, but you don’t pity yourself one bit. he was meaner with you, he always cracked awful jokes with the rest of the crew, drank beers with them, lit their cigarettes, but you, you were the person he took all his anger out on. 

well, at first it was anger. 

then he began to ever so slowly show his desires for sexual connections. he was able to hold it in at first, act like he wasn’t missing having sex, like he wasn’t missing the simple touch of a woman or man. masturbating wasn’t keeping him sane for long, not when he didn’t have anything to masturbate to. then he began to focus his attention onto you. 

you were attractive, and luke couldn’t hold back how his short glances turned to stares. his jaw ticks, lips parting, “i want you to wear shorter skirts.” 

“mini skirts?” you blink at him, he had called you to his office, and his eyes were traveling over your body every second he got. 

“yeah,” he pauses, “and lower cut shirts.” 

before your lips can even part, he dismisses you, and bluntly stares at your ass when you walk away. it was so ironic, luke used to be such a virgin, a complete loser, but now he was nothing short of the opposite. he was cocky, he knew he was handsome, he knew people were attracted to him easily, mostly sexually. 

if luke was lucky, at some stops, he might be able to bring back a few women or men home with him, they always gawked at the ship, told him how cool it is that he has a boat, that he’s a captain, and has a crew, that everyone does everything for him. 

they thought it was hot, so they wanted to do things for him to, he’d take them to his quarters, and provide them with red wine before moaning could be heard all throughout the ship. 

but his boat was in the middle of the sea, and has been for a month or so now, and he felt like he was going insane. 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

luke was struggling to sleep, insomnia was getting the best of him, he thought that if he drank more and more wine, he would eventually wind down. he never did. he only got slopper, and aroused. the worst mix on nights like these was the bubbling frustration that he didn’t have anything to fuck, and the fact that he wanted to fuck something so bad. 

his dick strains in his boxers, and his teeth grit together, mentally cursing himself for continuously offering himself one more drink, after the third glass, knowing he’d have a fourth, and a fifth. he’d drank the whole bottle, and he wasn’t even close to tired. 

his body feels warm, so warm. you come to his mind almost immediately, making his his hands draw closer to the hem of his boxers. the way your ass looks in those skirts, the stockings that meet at the middle of your thigh, the sheer shirts that barely showed the color of your bra, the slight cleavage you show when leaning over to place paperwork on his desk. 

he recalls the one time he had came into your room in the dead of night in search of a document, but he was immediately met with the floral of your perfume, and the way your blanket barely covered your naked form. he shouldn’t look, really, he should shy away and close the door, but he swallows thick seeing your breast, the slight parting of your legs, the way your cunt barely peeks out the messily moved blanket. 

he wouldn’t have actually done it, of course, because he’s a respectable man who puts consent above all else— but he wonders what it would look like if he pushed your legs apart, moved the blanket, and spread your pussy open for him. to be sleeping naked, how scandalous. he’d never know that you purposefully put the document in your room when you knew you wanted it, you purposefully slept naked, you purposefully moved the blanket in those ‘messy’ ways. 

he inhales sharply, fingers moving underneath the fabric of his boxers to graze over his cock. it’s so perverted, to think of you like this, to imagine pulling you onto his lap the next time you come into his office, fingers gripping your skin the same way they grip his cock now. you’d probably melt into his touch, so innocent, so pliant, your doe eyes staring at him like he’s the only man who had ever existed, like he’s a god. and that’s what he is, a captain, an emperor, a god. 

he thinks of himself, and is immediately reminded of caligula. 

the roman emperor in 31 AD, he was described by some as a tyrant, but in the beginning, he was one of the best leaders in ancient rome. he was just like luke, addicted to sexual acts, wanting all the finest things in life, and the worst part— luke was just as paranoid as him. 

but that was of no worry now, he was too focused on the pleasure that coursed underneath his flesh, or the simple thought of pushing his dick into your cunt, making your eyes roll back with pleasure you’d only ever dreamed of. luke knew he could make you feel good, and eventually he would. he imagined all the positions he would push you into, on your back, on your stomach with your ass up, having you ride him— gods. 

he wondered if whenever you tried to make excuses for being far too late at typing up a paper in time, he could just simply have you on your knees for him, fucking your mouth so you’d shut up. bruising your lips, ruining your lipstick, making you cry, all of those thoughts sends luke over the edge in no less than a minute or two. 

his skin is sticky with sweat, fingers coated in his own cum, but all he wants is more. 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

like mentioned before, luke had a madness problem. 

ever since he had been cast out, he had this odd paranoia problem, he thought the gods would strike him down at any second, that they were watching his every move, or that percy jackson would find his way to his ship and kill him himself for all the damage he’s caused. 

the lack of sex wasn’t the only thing driving luke mad, it was the cage of his own mind. the fact that he’s surrounded by the very thing that the man who’s responsible for percy’s existence owns, the sea. it all makes him sick, often times there will be crashing from his quarters in the late of night, but it always stopped as soon as it started. 

this night was different, it just kept going. first something being pushed over, then the breaking of glass, more crashing, more shatters, yelling, some screaming— it was a nightmare. some of the crew woke up, but you were the only one who dared to take a step out onto the deck that night, let alone approach his quarters. 

knock. knock. knock. 

no response, a deafening silence underneath the crashing waves and the crackling of the candle in your hand. 

knock. knock. 

the lack of response is worrying. he almost always responds, either it’s to tell you to fuck off, or to come in. but now, nothing. he couldn’t have hurt himself, could he? you test the waters, fingers curling around the doorknob and turning it with the expectation for it to be locked as it always is. 

it was unlocked. you push the door open, glancing in to see the mess that he had made of his own room, and him just simply sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. “luke?” 

“captain,” he immediately mumbles out, a correction. 

“captain,” you repeat, taking a step further inside, he has offered nothing against you being inside of his quarters. you are typically never allowed in here. you move to close the door behind you, placing the candle into the nearest holder that wasn’t completely destroyed. 

you turn back to him, his head was raised to look at you, arms now lazily splayed onto his spread legs in his sitting position. he was a chronic manspreader, something you noticed, but seeing him faintly hunched over pathetically like this, tired eyes staring at you, sweat beading at his temple— he was so hot. 

“are you okay?” you offer, voice as sweet as ever. 

“am i okay?” he scoffs, a chuckle following after, he’s never chuckled in front of you before, “am i okay, am i okay—“ he hums, “what do you think, hm? you think i’m okay?” 

his voice is confronting and harsh, like he wants to see you cower down, like he wants to break you like all the other things in his room. your brows furrow together for a second, “no..?” 

“no, no, atta girl— you’re catchin’ on,” he smiles at you for the first time, “why don’t you help me feel better, yeah?” 

you stare at him for a second, wondering if he meant what you thought he meant, “yeah.” 

“yeah.” his voice is hushed, almost mocking, “c’mere.” 

you immediately walk over to him in the ambient lighting, marking out your silhouette, stepping over all the things he’s knocked over. a grin tugs at his lips, cruel and cocky, he loves how easy you do anything he asks. his hand is gentle on your waist, pulling you closer, “so good for me.” 

you nod at him, letting his hand guide you down to your knees, pupils dilated up at him so perfectly. his tongue swipes along the backside of his teeth, moving his hand to hold your jaw, tilting your head to properly look up at him. maybe it was wrong to fuck his assistant, someone working for him, but it just felt so right, all of this felt like it was in the prophecy. 

his thumb swipes along your bottom lip, smearing the red lipstick there, of course you put that on before coming to his room. “so pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, dipping his finger between your lips and into your mouth. your lips curve up ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, lips closing around his flesh. 

he takes it away from your mouth just as quick as it was slotted between your lips, moving to undo his belt, the veins in his hands shifted with each movement of his hands, first it was his belt, then his pants, then his boxers. 

you always thought luke would have a big dick, he just has that certain cockiness that makes you think he couldn’t have a small dick and be acting the way he is, but this felt like it would hardly fit in your mouth.  

you glance up at him, his amused stare which immediately turns to faux concern when you say, “i don’t think it’ll fit—“ 

“it will,” he immediately cuts in, prying your mouth open with his thumb whilst his free hand eases your head closer, “i’ll make it fit.” 

your tongue runs along the vein at the bottom of his dick, already feeling the heaviness of it against the muscle in your mouth. you had sucked a few dicks before, sure, but this one was the biggest, and the cleanest. his hand holds your jaw when you start taking him into your mouth properly, tongue flat against the bottom of his cock, eyes peering up at him through heavy lids. 

his lashes flutter pathetically, mouth falling open with your every movement, the way the saliva from your mouth coats him perfectly— he needed this. it felt like a dream coming right after a nightmare, he was exhausted, sweating from his breakdown, and you were sent to him right when he needed it, an angel on his shoulder. 

but you’re going too slow, and luke’s growing restless from sitting so still. he can feel the ache of your jaw, but he wishes to make it worse somehow, as cruel as it sounds. his hand moves to the back of your head, hips ever so slowly bucking into your mouth, it was barely noticeable at first, until the sound of you sputtering and gagging around him fueled him more. 

his thrusts quickly turned harsh, bruising, merciless. 

he only paused when you slapped at his thigh pathetically, moving off to pant heavily, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. you looked so messy, so pathetic, lipstick smeared, eyes puffy from falling tears. “always wanted this, huh? i notice how you look at me, always running to my office any chance you get, such a slut.” 

you nod at him, and that only makes him want to say more, “do you believe in god?” 

“yes, yes,” the response is immediate. 

“am i your god?” 

you pause at him, processing, what would the best answer be? 

yes, of course, that would be the best answer. in luke’s own mind, all this misery, all this destruction, all this betrayal, it was only the start of his story to reach the top. when caligula was next in line for the throne and his father was on his deathbed, he killed his own father with hardly any hesitation, then became one of the most memorable roman emperors alongside julius caesar. 

luke had been planning the murder of hermes for a long, long time, ever since the first book about caligula he read. killing percy jackson was a failure, all several times, so he had no other choice than to just shoot for the stars. 

luke’s eyes refocus onto the situation at hand rather than being stuck in his own mind, he had you pushed on your stomach with your ass up, the position he always wished to put you in, the position he’s put multiple other women and men in. 

his hands smooth over your ass, memorizing the canvas that he wants to splatter paint over. there’s something so intimate about this whole ordeal, the dim lighting of sole candles in all the destruction around his room, the crashing of waves on the sides of the boat as it moves through the sea, the red wine that luke drinks from the bottle he had just picked up. 

he hums at the taste, rich, perfect. “want some?” 

you shake your head, and he tuts in faux disappointment, “no fun, aren’t you? just want me to fuck you? needy, needy.” 

albeit his degrations, his tip presses to your entrance, lips pressing together when he pushes in— holy fuck, you were tight. luke’s breathing is ragged, he feels as though your pussy is desperately trying to squeeze an orgasm out of him in seconds. it only worsens when you accidentally glench, making his teeth grit together, he coughs out a bitter chuckle, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” 

“no, nono—“ it was too late for the begging for forgiveness, his thrusts were already brutal, slamming into you without a single regard for how much pain it would leave you in, in the morning. caligula was a possessive lover, a harsh fucker, a man ruled by jealousy and madness— luke castellan was born from the same map of caligula. 

his hands grip your hips harshly, punching out sweet moans from your bitten lips with every thrust, “fuck, fuck! luke!” 

luke’s tongue prods at the inside of his cheek for a mere second before his hand suddenly moves to the back of your head, harshly tugging your hair back, “captain.” 

another correction. 

as soon as your back hits his chest, his hand moves from your hair to your neck, gripping the delicate skin there tight. he ignores your attempts to get his attention by placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his jaw, leaving his skin stained with your lipstick. his eyes were too focused on the mirror placed in front of him, of course he had one there, it was cracked, but he was still able to make out the way your skin trembled underneath him, the way his thrusts sent shivers up your spine, the way he easily made you cock drunk. 

it didn’t take long for him to have you cumming on him as well, in which he followed soon after with a gritted out fuck. 

luke’s eyes may be glazed over when he looks back in the mirror, but he doesn’t see himself in his position, he sees caligula. 

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan blurb #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan oneshot #pjo luke #charlie bushnell imagine #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x you #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell smut

[djarrex]

burning hot

Howzer x f!reader | Fireball x f!reader | Howzer x reader x Fireball

ao3 | masterlist

The senator you work for assigned you to go to the clone base on Teth, where your primary job as a relations specialist has you venturing outside the job description.

It's been a while - but I just couldn't get these two out of my head. spoilers for the bad batch s3e6&7. 18+ only. explicit. oral. piv. a hint of creampie and a sprinkle of light choking. everything is consensual. almost getting caught. getting caught a little. after care and mention of the color system. a little bit of a threesome. I don't ship clones. no love triangle. reader is f! but no physical description is mentioned. It's been a long time since I've had to tag anything so please let me know if I need to add something. not gonna add user tags because I don't know who's out there anymore lol. enjoy the 10.5k words of smut with plot :)

Never would you have thought you’d one day travel to Wild Space, and yet here you are, just having entered the purplish atmosphere of a planet called Teth. You’re not traveling alone, though; you’re surrounded by a couple security guards of the senator you all work for, along with a few clones, although these particular clones are not soldiers of the Empire; they’re fighting back just as your Senator is, among a few others who remain in office. Your job is one that your Senator has entrusted to you when this all began, which is to facilitate communications and gather information for your office. Essentially, you speak with the clones about their experiences with the Empire, and see if there’s anything there that would help their case in the Senate, and eventually, to hopefully cast a light on the Empire’s crimes.

“We’re almost to the landing zone,” the pilot, a clone named Gregor, calls. Through the transparisteel you see the abandoned Monastery come into view, sitting atop a steep, mountainous pillar. Apparently, this is where the clones have set up their operations – their base. You figure it’s a good location because of how remote it is, being way out in Wild Space where the Empire’s shadow does not reach. 

As the doors open and the ramp lowers, you see the several men who have been awaiting your arrival at the landing zone. Most of them, the ones who surround the pathway with their blasters held at ease, are in their helmets – but there are two clones in front of you without their helmets, one you quickly recognize as the Captain Rex. 

You blink.

You know the other helmetless man, his hairstyle exactly the same as it was the day he was rescued, though now he’s in a full kit of armor, strapped with weapons. Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him. He looks good, you note. Healthier than the day you met him, and judging by the operation they have going on here, he’s been keeping busy. 

Debarking the ship, you follow closely behind your security. You try not to linger too long on the giddiness you feel of seeing him again, but as you’re walking by, you see his eyes briefly widen with the realization of who you are.

He remembers you.

You first met Captain Howzer several months back, on the day he was rescued. Tagging along with your boss and security, you finally were able to meet the men who were the talk amongst the office: The rogue clones who were fighting back against the Empire. The garage in the lower levels of Coruscant was filled with these clones, some who were recently rescued and the ones who’d already been in the fight. On the day you met Howzer, you were getting to know the men who’d just been rescued that very day–him being one of them–by hearing their stories and gathering as much information as you could for your office, jotting down anything of note that could help the clones’ case in the Senate.

When you spoke with their captain, Howzer, you could tell he was angry – resentful. He told you all about how he’d been arrested back on Ryloth for merely opposing an order that was just plain wrong. Dissidence. He’d been arrested with several of his men who’d laid down their arms in solidarity, only to have been rescued with a saddening two who’d survived the year-long imprisonment. 

The two of you spoke for what felt like hours – long after the garage had cleared out of visitors and others had fallen asleep. You weren’t sure what it was – but you were feeling a pull – one that brought you closer and closer to him until the both of you felt the unspoken. He was flashing you a look – and that’s what did you in.

Howzer fucked you in a supply closet that evening.

It was quick and desperate. Howzer had you pinned to the back wall of that supply closet just moments after he'd followed your invitation inside. As you quickly worked your bottoms off, Howzer's desperation was blatant, his cock straining against those tight gray pants he'd been wearing since the rescue. His hands were quick and his movements were sloppy yet he still was able to expertly find every little thing that got you off. At one point, Howzer had you bent over the counter of a shelving unit, roughly pounding you from behind with his hand pressed against your mouth. His normally perfectly styled hair was falling out of place, strands hanging down his sweat-slicked forehead. He had you seeing stars quicker than you’d anticipated, and when he was nearly at his own climax, he pulled out of you and finished off into the palm of his hand, punctuating the moment with a slap to your ass and a soft, breathy kiss to your temple that juxtaposed it all. 

You’ve been working alongside clones for over a year now–since your boss had decided to covertly join the fight–and you’ve gotten to meet many of these familiar yet unique faces. It’s never been the way it was with Captain Howzer, though – not that you’re looking for that. However, since meeting him that evening, you always had the teeniest of hopes that you’d see him around again. 

And now, several months later, you’ve run into him here on Teth.

You try to hide your growing smile by pressing your lips together and looking down at your feet as you walk. His boots fall in line behind you, and not even several steps later, he clears his throat.

“Remember me?” 

His voice comes from behind you, gruff and playful at the same time, loud enough for only you to hear. You turn your head to the side to catch a glimpse of him from where he’s following behind you, his lips quirked at the corners.

You keep your voice low, glancing behind you as you walk. “Captain Howzer,” you greet simply.

He hums.

“Almost didn’t recognize you without the Imperial prison uniform,” you add.

Howzer lets out a wry laugh. “Felt real good to finally get out of those grays,” he tells you. “Felt even better to get back into my armor again.”

The group pauses, the leaders awaiting the doors to open.

“Glad to see you’re doing better,” you add, turning to face him fully. “This is quite the operation you guys have going on here.”

You swear you see Howzer briefly check you out, subtly eyeing you from head to toe. He grins. “So, what brings you here?”

“A job for the Senator. Apparently I’m good at getting you clones to share your stories and experiences.”

It’s the truth–that’s why you were assigned here for a while–but you’re also laying down little hints, something you know isn’t very professional of you but Howzer’s already reeled in.

He laughs at that, picking it up quickly. “I’ll say. I’d be happy to share even more with you.”

Barely minutes into a conversation with him and you’re already getting worked up, heat building in your lower stomach. “And I’d be happy to listen, Captain. That’s what I’m here for, after all.”

Howzer pitches his voice even lower. “How long will you be here for? You know, to listen?”

“Oh, that depends on how much you lot have to share.”

The same look appears in his eyes from your interaction all those months ago – the look that led the two of you into that supply closet. Even as the group continues inside, you can still feel his eyes on you. 

“Once you’re settled, ma’am,” he says just a little louder, playing the part, “I’d be happy to brush you up on our progress here. For the Senator, that is.”

You once again fight to hide your knowing smile. “I’d be happy to listen, Captain Howzer. I’ll find you once I’ve settled in?”

He exhales deeply, a sly grin on his lips. “How about I give you a tour of the place first?”

Impatient. 

But, honestly, so are you.

You look to your security and they nod in unison, and they step off to the side with a group of clones who are huddled over by the scanners. 

You follow Howzer all the way to a seemingly unused doorway. He pushes it with some force to get it to budge, opening it up to the stairwell spiraling against the inner walls of the spire. The only lighting within the stairwell comes from the torch he just clicked on, and he takes your hand, guiding you down the spiraling steps until reaching the next platform. He sets the torch down and holds your shoulders, and you pull yourself closer to him.

“You know what’s been on my mind since seeing you come off the ship?” Howzer slips his hands under your shirt, teasing his way up to your chest. You gasp at his touches, legs already feeling like jelly. 

“Tell me.”

He leans in. “How good you felt wrapped around my cock.”

You can tell just how wet you are already, and after waiting so many months to see him again, you’re growing impatient. 

“I’m having a hard time remembering that,” you tease. “Maybe you could jog my memory?”

Even in the dim light you are able to see just how dark Howzer’s eyes get, the shadows of his face deepening with the expression of lust etching in his handsome features. 

“Get your clothes off. Now.”

You start with your bottoms, pulling them off leaving yourself completely bare and exposed to the chilled air of the stairwell. Howzer doesn't take the time to remove all of his armor, only focusing on the parts that would get in the way. Before you can remove your shirt, Howzer stops you, his cock already hardened and in his hand.

“That’s good for now,” he orders breathily. Back against the stone wall, you bend your leg at the knee and Howzer takes it to hold against his armored hip as he guides his cock between your legs.

“You’re so wet,” he comments in a voice far too deep. He nudges into you, and the feeling was an incredibly missed one. “Gonna take me so well, baby. Just like you did before.” 

“Howzer…”

“Hang on to me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and Howzer hoists you up, effectively impaling you on his cock in the process. You cry out, the sound echoing throughout the stairwell.

“Gotta be a little quieter than that,” he chuckles confidently. “I haven’t even moved yet, pretty girl.” He kisses you then, his lips too soft for what you know is to come. “Promise me you’ll stay quiet. Can’t have anyone hear us down here.”

“Promise.”

With your back pressed against the wall and your entire lower half suspended in air by Howzer’s strong grip, you press your lips tightly together, and nod to give him the go ahead. 

Howzer adjusts his grip and starts to move. He snaps his hips roughly, creating repetitive echoes of the sounds throughout the stairwell. Armor on skin. It’s only slightly uncomfortable, but you’re too lost in the feeling of him fucking you again to care about anything else. Your head falls back against the stone wall but Howzer won’t have that. 

Between heavy breaths, he brings you back. “Eyes on me.”

When you meet his eyes again, you start to crumble. Even in this state they’re still such a soft, inviting brown, and you practically allow yourself to drown in them as you both near the finish. He sets you down on shaky legs, and turns you around. You present your ass to him, arching your back the way you know he likes. Howzer chuckles at that and quickly lines himself up to enter you again.

“Gonna paint this pretty ass,” he promises through gritted teeth. 

The change of angle sends you into a frenzy, only this time, you’re able to cover your mouth.

The way Howzer fucks you is so needy and frantic, everything that was pent-up driving the way he snaps his hips and grips your skin. You can feel him everywhere – consuming you. Your body starts to shake when your orgasm hits and Howzer can feel it – it affects the speed of his movements with how tight you start to clench around him.

“Fuck – that��s it – so tight.” He groans – a syrupy rumble in his throat. “Feels even better than I remember. Shit.”

You quiver as Howzer yanks his cock from you. The feeling of the loss is soon replaced by the feeling of his cum spurting onto your skin, the sensation making you moan. You must look like quite a sight, because he keeps humming and groaning quietly as he continues to fist his cock, milking every last drop onto your skin. 

Howzer pulls a small cloth from one of his pouches and wipes you off with it, helping you stand upright on your shaky legs. He starts to reattach his kit to his armor as you pull your bottoms back on, doing your best to fix yourself up without a mirror. 

“Now that we got that out of the way…” The both of you laugh before you continue, “Wanna actually share with me some useful information that I can relay to my boss?”

Howzer wipes his forehead – combs his fingers through his hair. “That I can do.”

-

It’s been a few weeks since you got to the base, and you’ve been welcomed by all as if you were one of them. 

You’re all on the same side here. 

You even have your own room, a place to retreat to when you need some privacy, and the men set up sleeping arrangements in there for you as well. You contact your office once a rotation to keep them up to date, though there hasn’t been much to tell as of yet. What you do know is that the clones are planning something big, a mission to help free more of their brothers, and you suppose you’re going to be here until that becomes more defined. Your security–well, they’re the Senator’s security–left after the first day because they were really only there to protect you, a member of the Senator’s staff, while traveling to Teth. After they did their job, they left, leaving you to do your job in peace.

Since your first day, you’ve gotten to know quite a few of the men who are stationed here, and you’ve been able to speak to the leadership as well as the ones who normally stay back while a certain few others come and go, whether it be with the leaders or on their own respective missions. Captain Howzer is one of the men who come and go, mostly staying at the side of Rex, the clone captain who was the original contact of your boss, the reason why you got into this job in the first place. 

You stay inside of the Monastery, not being a huge fan of the climate outside the stone walls. What you do enjoy is stepping outside to see the sunset and watching how the two moons rise into the mauve sky, when the humidity isn’t at its peak. Otherwise, you’d never venture out into the tangly jungle, or dare to climb the rocky terrain by yourself. 

When Captain Howzer is around, though – you end up wandering off to places you normally would never go on your own. He keeps you busy, even when you both have some downtime from your duties. 

Your secret encounters started off with him simply sneaking into your room at a time when nobody would ask questions. Then, it became him guiding you to remote locations within the base grounds, like the leech vessel that remains safely docked halfway down the spire, or even the transport ship that’s been under maintenance. You’ve even found yourselves behind closed doors in the communications room in the dead of night, riding his lap in one of the chairs. It’s always been quick sex so as to not get caught, but there’s a connection there that has you both feeling its pull. He always finds you before leaving for a mission, and never fails to pay you a visit once he’s back and debriefed. Hells, Howzer even kisses you like he misses you, but it’s just physical, and has to stay that way.

Currently, Captain Howzer and several others are away – gone for the past few rotations. To be completely honest, without him as an obvious distraction, you’ve been able to really focus on your job. 

You’ve just gotten off a call with your office and are finishing typing out notes into your datapad, when Fireball, one of the clones who was rescued from an Imperial prison transport nearly a year ago, calls out to you from the kitchen.

“Chow time!” 

A man who has quickly become one of your favorites, Fireball has long been the elected sous-chef around here, gladly taking up the responsibility of feeding his brothers when Captain Gregor is away. He’s cooked for you every day since you got here, making the dishes just as spicy and flavorful as you like. Not only have the two of you bonded over the food, you’re sometimes the only two inside of the main area of the base while everyone is either keeping up with their own duties around base or off-world on a mission. In those moments, Fireball has been able to really dig deep into his past experiences with you, sharing some of the more painful details that he’d otherwise keep buried and repressed. It isn’t always gloomy conversation, though; he is quite funny and keeps you entertained with cheerful anecdotes from his days as a soldier of the Republic. You’ve truly started to look forward to eating and chatting with Fireball. 

With a smile, you set down your datapad and head to the kitchen, where Fireball starts to shovel out stew from a pot into a bowl for you.

“Smells delicious,” you tell him appreciatively, taking the warm bowl from him. “Thank you, Fireball.”

“You’re very welcome.” He returns your smile, offering you a seat at the table. “I think I’m getting the hang of this cooking thing. Gregor taught me some of his recipes and I’ve enjoyed making them my own.” He sits down beside you at the table, watching you take your first bite with his brows raised. “This is my take on tiingilar – added my own modifications. What do you think?”

The warm colors of the vegetables and the spicy scent of the steam rising from the surface really add to the flavor of the bite, all of it coming together and melting right into your mouth.

“Wow – this is good. You really know how to win over a woman’s heart, Fireball.”

You could swear you see his cheeks darken with a blush, his eyes casting downward as he takes a few bites of his own. “It’s the Captain who’s won you over, from what I’ve been hearing,” he then adds with a chuckle. “Howzer’s been asking about you every time he makes contact. I should know – I mostly man comms around here.” 

It’s your turn to blush, your cheeks heating with the comment. “I-It’s not like that,” you stammer awkwardly, failing to defend yourself. “I’ve been helping h– talking him through some things.” Fireball looks amused, still slurping on his stew and watching you trip over your words. “I– we– I mean not we, but– ”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” he interrupts, waving you off. “I haven't spoken a word to anyone about your relationship with the Captain.”

You freeze.

“...Relationship?”

Fireball leans close, pitching his voice low. “I know about you two.” Your heart nearly drops, but he’s quick to offer you relief. “Howzer told me. He wanted to make sure that if anyone found out, I’d catch the chatter first on comms. I know it probably wouldn't be very beneficial for your office to find out.”

“Oh, well, thanks.” You wipe the embarrassment from your face. “How long have you known?” Taking a heaping bite, you purposefully avoid his eyes. 

“Well, I've known ever since I sort of walked in on the two of you last week.”

You almost choke on the bite. “What?”

“In the comms room,” he quickly adds. “I’m normally up to check the channels every hour. I could hear the two of you behind the closed door, thankfully, before I could open it.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he chuckles. “I’m just glad Howzer’s in a better mood overall. Now I can figure that’s because of you.”

You blink at him. Something sits wrong in your gut, and it’s not the stew. The last thing you want is for the guys here to think of you as a piece of meat – someone who is only here to offer them relief in a physical way. If word got out about what you and Captain Howzer have been getting up to, not only would that tarnish the view of you in the clones’ eyes, but would cost you your job for sure. 

“Hey, I was sent here to help all of you – to offer an ear for your experiences but while also taking down anything of note to help the cause for not just my people but yours as well.” You sit up straighter, setting the spoon down. “We are all on the same side here, but I’m not just– not just a booty call.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I’m sorry,” Fireball amends, his hand coming to rest over your own. “I know why you’re here. You helped me on the day I was rescued, too.” He smiles. “I haven’t forgotten about what you did for me on my first day of freedom, how you showed compassion and empathy towards what I’d gone through with the Empire.”

You soften then, offering an apologetic smile. You remember Fireball, meeting him in the same garage in the lower levels of Coruscant only a few months prior to Howzer’s rescue. “I’m glad I was able to help.”

A silent minute goes by then, the two of you finishing up your stew. When you take the last bite, he collects your empty bowl, making the short walk to the kitchen and setting them in a pile to be cleaned later. 

“You being present, eating with me says more than you know,” Fireball adds after taking his seat beside you once again. “Normally I’m by myself in here when the leadership is away, back and forth between keeping the others fed and monitoring communications.”

You nod along with his words, unable to hide your growing smile stemming from your heated cheeks. Fireball continues and you listen.

“It’s just nice to have somebody to talk to, somebody different.” He rubs at the back of his neck, flashing you a bashful grin. “It doesn't hurt that you’re beautiful, too. I understand why Howzer’s so taken with you.”

Something clicks then. 

You’ve developed a crush on Fireball. 

It makes sense – him being someone who’s always there, someone who you’re always looking forward to chatting with. Of course he’s attractive, but it’s not just the exterior you admire about him; you truly appreciate who he is as a person – the decisions he made leading up to his turn against the Empire. Sacrifice. Heart. He’s brave and resilient. Maybe you’re just being silly, but you think he feels some type of way about you as well. 

You and Howzer aren’t a thing. It’s okay to feel something for somebody else.

“I have to confess something,” you say to him, locking eyes with his curious ones, rounding as you begin to speak. “The guys here are so lucky to have you on their side. You’re a real catch – and honestly, any woman would be lucky to have you, too.”

The mood suddenly changes – the air charged. You want him, you decide. You briefly reason with yourself that this would not go against what you were saying before, about how you don’t want to sully the guys’ opinions of you by offering yourself up like this. This – this is different. You feel a connection with Fireball, one that’s full of tension that’s ready to snap at any moment. It’s too strong to turn your head away from, and you’re well aware the man sitting beside you feels the very same.

“Oh yeah?” Fireball bites his lip – runs his fingers through his hair. His voice lowers, gruffer and thick. The sound of it goes through your core. “Any woman?”

You take a beat, your heart thumping in your chest. He’s gotten closer – subtly leaning toward you. His hand slowly comes up, fingers gently pinching your chin.

“Say it, beautiful.”

You know he can do more than just cook and make you laugh – a man who is competent with more than just incendiary weapons. He’s been holding something back for a long time, you just know it.

“I want you,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. 

And you want him to let loose.

“Stand up.” 

Even though his voice came out just as quiet as yours, his tone was firm and certain, nothing to defy. You’re quick to stand, and in seconds Fireball is standing as well, his hands grasping your upper arms. You blink at him, awaiting for what should come next. You sense that he’s going to be the one calling the shots here – guiding you exactly where he wants you to go. He may not be part of the leadership around here but he sure as hell is in charge at this very moment. His eyes are deep in thought, that much you can tell. You figure he’s trying to decide on where to start, and the anticipation is making you clench around nothing.

Finally, his eyes make a decision, his hands offering your arms a gentle squeeze.

“Turn around.”

You oblige, awaiting further guidance. 

“I also have something to confess,” Fireball says, his lips just behind your ear. You hold your breath as his hands travel all over your body, his touches featherlight and teasing. “I’ve wanted you for a while. Ever since you got here, maybe even before, when I’d heard you’d be joining us for a while.”

“Oh yeah?”

He bends you over the table in one motion, and pulls your bottoms down to your knees in the next. You swallow thickly as his discarded gloves plop beside you on the tabletop. Breathlessly glancing over your shoulder, you catch sight of him slowly crouching down, his face just inches away from your bare skin. 

“Yeah. And when I heard you and the Captain in the comms room last week, I had to find someplace quick to work one out. Couldn’t get the sounds you were making out of my head.”

Fireball caresses your skin, his fingers coming close to your folds. Knowing he’s that close to touching you where you want makes you clench, a sight that he appreciates. 

“Has… Howzer ever tasted you before?”

The question alone makes you whimper. 

“N–no. Not yet.”

He only hums at that.

“Fireball – touch me, please.”

He continues to tease you, fingers gently prodding through your folds. The soft squelching sound of your arousal heats your face. Growing impatient and desperate for something more, you wiggle your hips, hoping to hint at him to stop teasing and get to it.

“You said to touch you, beautiful, and I am touching you. If you’re wanting something else, I need to hear you ask nicely.”

You could almost roll your eyes at that, but you’re far too worked up to be a brat. You know from experience that certain behaviors, though they can be fun, won’t get you very far.

“Please put your mouth on me. I want to feel your mouth on me, please.”

His response to you is a throaty chuckle, soon followed by exactly what you asked for. When he finally puts his mouth on you, you nearly cry out in relief. 

He starts slow – still teasing while giving you the bare minimum. His lips plant little kisses to the backs of your thighs and all over your folds, his hands holding your hips steady. You’re so worked up that even the small amount he’s granting you is almost enough, but knowing what’s still to come, your body aches for more. 

“Fireball, please, more.”

“I appreciate the manners.” You feel him chuckle again behind you, the vibrations even more teasing. Finally, you feel his tongue poke out between his lips, prodding through your folds. 

You slam your hand against the tabletop. “Oh, fuck.”

He hums in satisfaction, quickly losing himself in your taste. Fireball practically latches his mouth to your pussy, his tongue vigorously working its way through and between your folds. The suction of your clit caught in his lips nearly ends you right then and there, but sensing that you’re incredibly close, he removes his mouth from you and instead stands. Disappointed, you turn your head to face him, catching sight of him wiping his mouth and removing the guard on his armor. 

“I need to know what you feel like wrapped around me, beautiful.”

Seemingly awaiting your approval, Fireball runs his fingers through his hair, holding his hardened cock in his other hand. You gulp at the size of him, flushed and leaking. You haven't even touched him and he looks like he’s about to bust, his own arousal coming from just the taste of you.

“Fuck me, then.”

He hums.

You feel the head of his cock slide through the mess he made between your legs, and as he pushes himself in the slightest, you can’t help the shudder that rips through your body. He’s big, and even though you’re more than wet enough to take him, you’re clenching too much in anticipation. 

He laughs at that – soft and sweet yet full of cockiness. 

“Easy, darling. Barely even inside of you yet.” Fireball groans, the sound of it sending even more heat to your core. “Take a deep breath for me.”

You do, and he feeds his cock into you in that very breath. 

“I won’t last very long,” he tells you once his armored hips are flush with your rear. “You feel too incredible.”

He starts to thrust then, slowly at first and even at the current pace you’re losing your mind. He’s so deep inside of you that you can feel him in your stomach. You don’t realize just how silent you’ve been through it all–too focused on holding your breath and keeping the noise to a minimum–until Fireball comments on it, briefly pausing and checking in to make sure you’re okay.

“‘M fine,” you assure him. Your hand finds his own from where it's grabbing your hip – extra reassurance. “Faster. Go faster. Please.”

You’re guided into a standing position, your back meeting the cool, hard armor covering his body. Fireball’s hand wraps around your throat, not squeezing with too much pressure but it's very much there. His other hand finds its way between your legs, rubbing at your clit to match his increasing speed. It isn’t long until you’re crying out in ecstasy into the palm of your head, tears brimming in your eyes at the intensity of it all. When you climax, Fireball feels it for sure, his own cresting at breakneck speed.

“Where do you want me,” he breathily gasps into your ear, still rubbing your clit into overstimulation. You don’t have it in you to care though, legs wavering from your ongoing climax. 

“Inside,” you whimper. “I have the implant.”

“Fuck, okay.”

Fireball cums inside of you – and the feeling is indescribable. 

Never before have you been with a partner who felt like this during an orgasm. He makes the most sinful of noises as his cock swells deep inside of you, his body shaking against yours. He pants into your ear while your entire cunt heats with his amount of release, enough of it to seep out even with his cock still fully inside of you, feeling it trickle down your thighs.

Fireball bends you down against the table once again when he pulls out, a gush of warmth following. Crouched down to watch his handiwork, he swipes his fingers through some of the mess along your inner thighs, bringing it back to where it belongs.

“Messy girl. Took me so well.” He stands, guiding you back to your feet, “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

“Anybody could have walked in on us,” you laugh breathlessly, that very realization making you quick in redressing, not caring about the mess still dribbling down your thighs and now soaking your underwear.

Tucking himself back into his undersuit and reattaching his guard piece, Fireball blinks dreamily at you. You’re pulled in by the look in his eyes, full of satisfaction and adoration. Your lips meet then, a passionate kiss that punctuates the moment perfectly.

“I should get to the comms,” he tells you almost apologetically. You nod in understanding, meeting his lips for another kiss. “See you around?”

“Of course,” you reply. “Looking forward to our next meal and conversation.” 

The unspoken third activity hangs in the air, Fireball grinning knowingly at the implication.

-

It wasn’t even an hour later when some of the others came back to base after being away for a few rotations. You heard the team return, conversations loud enough to sound as if they were occurring just outside your room. Something about running into another shadow – those assassins you’ve been briefed on. Figuring this is a conversation you should be apart of, you gather your datapad and go to head out the door.

Right as you’re opening the door, Howzer is there.

“Welcome back,” you tell him with a hint of surprise in your voice, not at all expecting him to be right there. “I was just coming out to see what was going on.”

“We’ll debrief you later. Rex and Gregor have other business to attend to at the moment.”

You set down your datapad. “Oh, okay. Well, if you’re hungry, there’s a huge pot of tiingilar on the stove that was made about an hour ago. Should still be pretty warm–”

Howzer interrupts you when his lips passionately meet yours. 

“There’s only one thing I’m hungry for,” he mumbles against your lips, quickly shutting the door behind him. “And she’s standing right here in front of me.”

You giggle at that, once again being swept off your feet when Howzer’s lips reconnect with yours. It happens so fast – his hands roaming your body. Too lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours and his tongue tasting your lips you don’t realize one of his hands has already lost a glove and found its way into your pants until you jolt from the sensation. Your reaction makes Howzer pause, a curious brow raised. 

You never cleaned yourself up from earlier. A request to make contact with your office had come in immediately following what took place in the kitchen, and you were so consumed with work that you completely forgot to take care of yourself. 

And Howzer noticed. 

“What’s the matter? A little sensitive down there, baby?”

You only manage a nod, bashfully smiling through it against his lips. Howzer continues, only now his fingers move your soaked panties to the side. He pauses again, this time pulling his face from yours. 

“Oh?” He hums playfully, narrowing his eyes yet still keeping his cocky smirk. “You're a mess.” 

His fingers slip inside you with ease, and his eyes widen. You choke on a gasp when his fingers pull from you, his hand raising up between your faces for you both to see. Coated on his digits is the creamy film of a mixture of releases, and some of it still dripping from your pussy from what happened between you and Fireball.

“Now who did this?”

Howzer once again lowers his hand and slips his fingers inside of you, pulling them out only to swipe at your sensitive clit. The motions make your body jolt again, and he takes notice, clicking his tongue disapprovingly.

“Here I was thinking you took care of yourself because you’re just so needy.” He shakes his head, his tongue coming to wet his lips. “Now I see I’m not the only one you’re fucking around here.”

Howzer wipes his hand onto his glove, his eyes never leaving yours. Guilt and shame immediately flood your entire body – but you’re unsure why. You and Howzer aren’t a thing – nothing official. So why does he sound so–not angry, not upset–disappointed?  

He tilts his head, a cocky look once again appearing on his face as he watches you.  

“Hey, it's okay,” he tells you genuinely, reaching for your arms and pulling you towards him. He guides you toward a wall, your back firmly pressed against it. “I don't mind sharing. Why don't you tell me who it was, baby? Tell me who beat me into cumming in this perfect pussy while I was away.”

Crouching down, Howzer guides your bottoms off, pulling them from your feet and tossing it all to the side. He watches how you squirm under his gaze, his eyes taking note of every detail from the encounter you had. 

“Couldn't have been Gregor,” he comments absently, swiping his fingers through your mess. He plants a kiss to an unsullied part of your inner thigh. “Couldn't have been Rex, either.”

The very names of both captains being used in this context makes you shiver, the thought of either of them touching you in such a way heating you up inside. They’re both incredibly competent – strong – skilled. You’re sure they’d completely and utterly ruin you for anybody else. 

Howzer chuckles at your reaction and stands up, his hand still toying with you. “It wasn't them but I can tell you wouldn't mind that, hm? Such a filthy, needy girl. You'd take all of us at one time if that were possible, wouldn't you?”

The thought truly never crossed your mind until now – something to revisit later. You’re getting yourself into trouble – the best kind. You’re afraid of getting addicted to the feeling of these men touching you, first Howzer and then Fireball. They may be clones, but from what you can tell so far, they do things in their own, unique ways. You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t at all curious about how the others would handle you – if they’d take you roughly, tenderly – if they’d use their mouth on you or speak filth into your ear. 

Your own fantasies scare you – threatening to make you lose sight of who you are and why you’re here. The most debauched of images flash into your mind – a scene of multiple men of this base taking turns using you in any way they desire. 

Fingers slowly thrusting into you as he awaits your response, you gasp out a shaky “Yes”, making Howzer bite his lip.

He peers at you with darkened eyes. “We can discuss that later.”

But he's not finished questioning you yet.

“Was it Greer? Samson?” Howzer’s hand quickens, fingers plummeting harder into you. He curls them, too – massages the spot that makes your brain fuzzy. Lips brushing against your jaw, he continues to rattle off a few more familiar names, but you shake your head at each of them.

“Nemec?”

No.

“Fireball?”

When you finally hear his name, you can't help but gasp. Howzer catches on, humming thickly at your wordless confession.

“Ah, I see. I'm sure he was good to you, baby, so why are you this needy and wanting more?” 

Howzer removes his hand then, instead heading over toward the door, leaving you pantsless and unfulfilled. 

“Howzer, please.” 

Hand reaching for the door controls, he turns his head over his shoulder. “Why don't I call Fireball in here so he can properly take care of you, hm? Seems you were left unsatisfied.”

When you don't respond right away, Howzer approaches you, his face serious and concerned. He takes your hand. “If this is too much, please let me know. It's all just talk if that's what you're comfortable with. We don't need to take it further.”

“I appreciate your caution. I really do – but I'm fine with it, Howzer.”

“You're sure?”

“I– I like that idea,” you admit quietly. 

Howzer raises an intrigued brow.

You feed into it then, reiterating the foundation of all this talk.

“I let Fireball cum inside of me.” 

“I know, baby. Want to tell me what else he did?”

“He ate me out from behind and fucked me against the kitchen table.”

Howzer’s eyes widen at your confession but narrow just as quickly, seemingly disapproving of the carelessness you displayed. Every encounter you had with Howzer so far has been off the beaten path, definitely not in a common area in the middle of the day no less. 

He shakes his head.

“Anybody could have walked in on you two.”

It was risky – but exciting.

You bite your lip at the memory.

“I know.”

“When was this?”

“About an hour ago.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Howzer puts his hands on his hips, tilting his head to the side in thought. He watches you intently with his lips twisted. “Hm. Clean yourself up, then take off your clothes and get on the bed. I'll be back soon, okay?” 

You nod, Howzer kissing you before throwing out one last command: “And don’t touch yourself.”

Body shaking and your heart pounding with anticipation, you quickly clean yourself up with a damp rag and shed the rest of your clothing before getting into your bed, just as you were instructed. Implications of Howzer’s final comments to you has you spiraling, different scenarios coming to the forefront of your mind. He’s going to get Fireball, you know it. He’s going to bring him right here to you, and the two of them will take turns with you – or, maybe, they’ll use you at the same time.

Your pussy flutters at that idea.

You try your hardest to present yourself in the best way for their return, propping yourself up against your pillows and wrapping the blanket around parts of you that they would have to remove themselves to expose you. It’s a lengthy twenty or so minutes until Howzer returns, but just as you thought, Fireball’s right at his side. 

“Hello, boys,” you say in the sweetest voice you can muster, despite the small amount of disappointment for the wait. Their eyes flash the very same dark shade of desire, pooling deep in those soft brown eyes they share. 

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, darling. I made sure no one would be around. Had to make up an excuse to borrow Fireball for the evening.”

“You didn’t touch yourself while you were waiting, did you, beautiful?”

Your eyes flicker to Fireball, shaking your head no.

“Good girl. Following orders so well already.”

Howzer agrees and starts to undo his holders and the rest of his armor, Fireball wordlessly following the other in preparation. Neither of them take their eyes off of you for too long, staring at you as if they mean to devour you completely.

And you think they just might. 

Dressed only in their undersuits now, Howzer doesn’t break eye contact with you as he addresses the other, gesturing to you with a jolt of his chin.

“Fireball, she told me what you did out in the kitchen, where anybody could have walked right in,” he begins, that same firm, disapproving tone present in his voice as it was with you. “Now, I want you to show me exactly what you did to make our girl so damn messy.”

Our girl. 

You could get used to this.

“Of course.” Fireball grins. “I’d be happy to.”

You bite your lip at Fireball as he approaches, but you glance quickly to Howzer, who has decided to sit this one out in the chair against the wall. 

His eyes don’t leave you, though. He’s going to watch.

“A proper bed,” Fireball comments, caressing your cheek in the palm of his hand. He rips the blanket from your body and leans toward your ear, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “I can’t wait to break you apart. I’m going to ruin you, beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat, then Howzer speaks up in the background almost knowingly. “We all know the color system, correct?” 

Not looking towards the man in the chair, you nod, Fireball nodding along with you. 

“Good.” 

With that, Howzer leans back, legs spread. You can already see the outline of his cock straining in his skin-tight pants.

He wants a show, and you’re going to give him one.

That is, if Fireball doesn’t destroy you first. 

“I can’t believe how messy you were,” Fireball comments in disbelief as his hand slips between your legs. “Kept me inside of you that whole time, even let Howzer finger you like that.” He continues stroking you, paying extra attention to your clit. “Spread your legs this way,” he directs, angling your body so you’re exposed to Howzer. Fireball teases you in the same fashion as he did just a little while earlier, planting kisses all over your thighs and folds until you’re begging him for more. Howzer, meanwhile, has started to palm himself over his clothes, watching with his lips parted.

The extra pair of eyes on you turns you on even more. 

“Fireball, use your tongue like you did before.”

He smacks his lips, squeezing your thigh in warning. “Now, now, where are the manners you were using so politely before?”

You’re not in charge here. You never were.

“...Please.”

Satisfied, Fireball grins. “Good girl.”

He attacks your pussy with his tongue, only this time, he’s sloppier. Maybe it’s the change of angle, or maybe it’s the audience, but he’s using his tongue in a way that has your head spinning and hips bucking. Fireball seems to be spurred on by this, doubling his efforts and even using an arm to keep you pressed into the bed. He switches to suck vigorously at your clit before lapping at you and it’s already far too much. Your body is desperate for release. 

“I’m– I'm going to cum. Please let me cum. Please.”

He pulls his mouth from you, his lips smacking against your wet folds from a sloppy kiss. Wiping his mouth, he flashes you a devilish grin.

“Not yet. You’re going to cum on my cock, just like before.”

Defeated, you flop your head back onto the bed, your climax receding. You know that the disappointment won’t last for long, though. 

Fireball stands, kicking his bottoms all the way off and peeling his shirt off over his head. You’re granted a perfect view of his entire body, the muscles and hair and soft patches making your head spin. You even discover he has a tattoo – a rather large piece that starts from his hip and travels up his side, the shape of flames twisting around to his pectoral. 

You go to adjust, to change position, but Fireball stops you. “No, no. You lay just like that,” he tells you, guiding you back to where you were. “Hold your knees up for me. Good girl – just like that.” 

Still laying on your back, both men have a perfect view of your pussy, clenching with need before their eyes. 

Fireball leans down to your ear again, his cock hot and dragging heavy against your stomach. He’s so incredibly warm. “We’re going to give him a show. When I cum, I’m going to fill you, and you’re going to take it all like the good girl you are.”

You gasp at his filthy words of promise, but Fireball isn’t pleased with your lack of verbal response. He pinches your cheeks between his fingers, not hard, but definitely firm enough to get your attention. “You tell me if I’m going too rough,” he asks you sincerely. “I’m having fun with you, but stop me if it’s going over the line.” You nod weakly, desperate to feel him between your legs once again. He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, I need you to say it.”

“I’ll let you know,” you promise. “I’m green, Fireball.”

“Good.”

With that, he stands back up at the edge of the bed, scooping his hands under your rear and dragging you up above the edge. Your hands grab at your knees as instructed.

“Deep breath,” he commands, turning his head over his shoulder at Howzer, almost as if he’s giving him a pointer – a jab about his size. 

Your lower half hovering over the bed, you take that deep breath, already knowing what’s to come. Fireball impales you on his cock, sinking even deeper than before without the armor as a hindrance. Every part of his hips and groin make contact with your skin this time, including the maintained curls at the base of his cock. He holds there for a few moments, taking deep breaths, almost as if he’s composing himself. 

You once again glance at Howzer, his cock outside of his waistband now and being fisted by his hand. 

You could gush from the sight alone.

“I’m green,” you remind Fireball.

Sweat already starts to bead at his hairline, strands of hair falling out of place. He looks wrecked already and he hasn’t even begun moving yet. 

“You feel incredible like this,” he sighs in admiration. “I should just have you sit on my cock while I’m manning comms. Keep it warm for hours until you’re shaking.”

“Fuck, Fireball–”

“Yeah, would you like that, beautiful? To be my pretty little cockwarmer?”

“For fucks sake, enough,” Howzer growls out from behind him. “Just fuck her already, or step aside.”

You almost laugh at how Howzer’s impatience is somehow shorter than your own, but Fireball isn’t having it. He goes from zero to ten in seconds, pulling his cock all the way out before slamming back in. Your entire body jolts from each thrust, breaths being punched out of your lungs almost uncomfortably. The feeling of his cock knocking into the back wall of your cunt is all you can focus on, and as Fireball becomes more intense, he stalks talking. 

“Tell him, beautiful,” he begins, his skin slick with sweat and lips parted. “Tell him who the first one was to cum inside this pussy. Tell him who claimed you there first.”

You hear Howzer groan from behind him, and it spurs you on. You did want to give him a show, after all.

“You did, Fireball,” you choke out. “You did.”

“Damn right,” he continues, more hair falling out of place. “And I’m going to do it again, but you’re going to cum with me. You cum when I say and only when I say. Understood?”

“...Yes, sir.”

Your ranking comment seems to be one that does Howzer in, because you can hear the telltale sounds of the Captain cumming into his own hand. Fireball though, he takes your comment and runs with it, twisting his face into determination. The muscles of his abdomen flex violently as his thrusts change into quick jabs. He’s utterly disheveled, but he’s not done with you yet. 

“I can feel how close you are. You’re so fucking tight around my cock.”

You nod absently, too far gone to speak. There’s so much pressure built up inside of you that you feel you’ll burst at any moment; and that moment comes when Fireball’s fingers find your clit, rubbing at it in quick motions. 

“Cum. Now.”

You’re thankful to hear the words, because you fear you were about to anyway. You feel yourself gush around his cock, along with that familiar feeling of heat coming from his own release being pushed deep inside of you. You’re drunk on it – utterly lost in euphoria. Out of your body. The only thing keeping you tethered to reality is how Fireball caresses your cheeks, so incredibly tender compared to how he just handled you.

“You okay, beautiful?”

His eyes look wide with concern, full of fear that he crossed a line. You reassure him with the sincerest smile you can manage at the moment, your head still dizzy with endorphins. 

You then see Howzer appear beside Fireball, his face reading the same expression. 

You reach up to take Howzer’s hand. “You wanted Fireball to make a mess of me again,” you say quietly, still coming back to your body. “Look.”

Both men look at where you’re gesturing, their eyes blown wide and lips parting with a groan. You clench and relax your muscles, pearls of white seeping out from your swollen pussy and dripping onto the floor. You giggle tiredly at their shared reactions. 

“I know you need a break, baby,” Howzer says, running his hand along your thigh. “But I want you so bad right now.”

“Then have me,” you offer. “I promise I’m green, just a little tired is all.”

Fireball cleans himself off and starts to redress. “I’m going to get some water.” He hands Howzer a different rag and places a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Howzer lifts you and lays you down the other way, your head now supported by pillows. He strips off his undersuit and takes his place beside you, one hand caressing different parts of your body while the other carefully runs the rag between your legs.

“You’re breathtaking,” he tells you. “And you looked so good getting fucked like that.” 

You smile at him, holding his chin in your hand, running your thumb along the scar. “I can’t believe you just watched,” you tease. “I almost expected you to push Fireball out of the way, especially after how impatient you got.”

He laughs at that. “I’ll still have you, baby. I’m not worried.”

“Have me now, Howzer.”

“You sure?”

“Please. I want you.”

“Okay, pretty girl. I’ll be gentle.”

Howzer climbs on top of you, holding your face in his hand as he swipes his cock through your folds. You wince at the sensation, far too oversensitive for any type of teasing. Even though he just came into his hand not long before you got yours, he’s already hard again, and easily slips inside of you. Both of you share a soft moan, Howzer’s eyes fluttering shut at the feel of you wrapped around him.

Your leg bent and held against his hip, he slowly starts to thrust, his heated chest pressed against yours. 

“I missed this,” he admits. “I thought about you a lot while I was away.”

“Fireball told me that you were asking about me every time you made contact.” You giggle when Howzer looks away in embarrassment, but your hand finds his scarred cheek, delicately redirecting his eyes to yours. “It was sweet.”

Howzer’s lips meet yours, his hips resuming that same, slow pace. It’s relaxed yet he’s still hitting so deep, a balming sensation that sends butterflies through your stomach.

A knock at your door makes you both pause briefly, but you soon recognize it as Fireball returning with water, and invite him in.

“Leave it on the table,” you direct Fireball. “And come over here.”

Howzer gives you a curious look, though not letting it phase his movements. Fireball obeys and is at your side in an instant. You take your hand from Howzer’s shoulder and instead reach for the waistband of Fireball’s undersuit. His brow raises, and this time, Howzer halts. 

“I want to suck your cock while Howzer fucks me.”

Both men once again widen their eyes.

“This is what I want,” you offer before either of them can object or make an argument for your sake. “Howzer, it’s okay, you can go a little harder. I know you want to.”

Howzer smirks at you and nods, adjusting himself to kneel upright so he can give you what both of you need. Fireball can’t help but reach for your breasts, running his hands all over your chest. You guide his cock out from his undersuit and he steps closer, resting a knee on the bed to get a good angle. 

“Howzer, I want you to cum inside of me. Fireball, I want you to cum on my tits.”

“Oh, fuck,” you hear one of them groan. 

Looking up at Fireball with pleading eyes, you open your mouth and extend your tongue. His jaw practically drops at your gesture, taking that as the goahead to feed his cock into your mouth. You taste the tang of release still clinging to his skin and you quickly start to crave it, your mouth watering for more.

Howzer resumes his own movements, his hands clinging to your hips like a vice. They both use you, one cock nudging the back of your throat while another punches into your gut. Howzer’s normally perfectly styled hair quickly becomes mussed from exertion, those combed strands collapsing down his forehead. 

Fireball thrusts into your mouth over and over again, drool starting to dribble down your cheek and chin. He keeps one hand occupied with squeezing your breasts while the other finds a home wrapped around your throat, just as it was earlier. That same tingly sensation floods your senses again from even the faintest of pressure offered, sending sparks to your core. 

“She’s so close,” Howzer tells the other, as if you aren’t there. 

Fireball smirks at that, squeezing your throat with just a little extra pressure.

“Fuck, do that again,” Howzer groans. “She liked that.” 

Fireball repeats the motion, squeezing then releasing, and each time you clench with the return of pressure. It’s so much and just when you thought you couldn’t possibly have another one in you, your third orgasm of the evening hangs right there, though this one doesn't feel as disastrous. You start to welcome it but hold back, awaiting permission.

“It’s okay, beautiful,” Fireball coos. “Cum for us.”

Howzer chimes in, slowing his thrusts and angling his hips upward to hit that spot he knows will send you over the edge. “C’mon, baby. You can cum.”

When it arrives, it washes over you like a cool, replenishing rain, different from the others that were burning hot and unforgiving. You feel at ease and brand new. You feel safe with these men, knowing they’d do anything to take care of you. As you start to come down from your relaxed high, the pair dote on you with praise and gentle touches, then switch their focus to finishing themselves. You help them get there anyway you can, adding in extra clenches for Howzer and tongue movements for Fireball. 

It isn’t much longer after that when Fireball pulls out of your mouth and pumps himself at the head, squeezing as his cock spurts his cum onto your chest. Howzer starts to crumble at the sight of the white ropes painting your breasts and drool coating your chin, and shortly after that, he’s burying himself as deep inside you as he can, pelvis flush with yours, and shakes and groans with his own release. 

Both of them looked wrecked yet so satisfied. They also share the same admiration in their eyes as they get you cleaned up and hydrated. 

Fireball sits at the edge of the bed, offering you and Howzer the blanket to cover up. 

“Can I ask you both a personal question?” You and Howzer glance at each other, nodding in unison to Fireball before he continues. “What started…” he gestures with his hands to the two of you lying beside one another in bed, “...This?”

“We actually met several months ago,” you start to explain.

“And hooked up that same day,” Howzer adds with a grin. “Guess we sort of picked up where we left off.”

You laugh. “Captain Impatient here couldn't wait to get me alone on my first day here.” 

Howzer shakes his head at your nickname, and Fireball only nods along as he listens to the two of you go back and forth. 

“I don’t want to get in the middle of anything,” Fireball finally chimes in. “You two have something here – and I don’t want to ruin that.”

You make eye contact with Howzer, both of you thinking the exact same thing. 

“You’re not ruining anything,” you assure him. “What Howzer and I have–” you look at Howzer again, to ensure you’re both on the same page, “--It won’t go beyond this right here.”

Fireball turns instead to his captain, wanting to hear what he has to say.

Howzer considers for a moment, tenderly grabbing your chin before responding. “I already told our girl here that I don’t mind sharing.” He pauses again. “That is– if you don’t mind sharing, Fireball.”

Fireball grins. “I definitely don’t mind. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t getting in the way of anything.”

Simultaneously, they both make eye contact with you. Howzer’s fingers delicately run across your cheek. “Are you okay with it, darling?”

You ponder their offer for a moment, thinking about everything it could cost you. You’re here for work, not for pleasure. You’re way out in Wild Space because you were entrusted with this job. Yes, you would lose this job if word got around that you’re sleeping with the clones. Yes, you’d lose the trust of many, and perhaps lose the faith of your people, who are counting on your office to fight against the Empire in a diplomatic way. 

But you look at these two men, one laying next you, the other sitting at your bedside. Both of them would protect you without a second thought. Both of them have already shown how much they care about you. Both of them still allow you to do your job, mutually benefitting from it. They take your mind off everything that’s going on – the oppression of your people, the tragic experiences of recently rescued clones, the disheartening news when a mission fails. 

And when the need arises, both of them can make you feel things unlike anything you’d ever felt before. It started with Captain Howzer – and you’re not at all about to turn away Fireball. You have strong connections with both of them, and you’re not willing to give up the physical aspects of those relationships. 

Sitting up, you grab their hands, holding them in your own. You keep a serious expression on your face, wanting to display that yes, you’ve given this a lot of thought, even though you already knew your answer. You want to show them that you’re taking this seriously, and that their caution and concern are dually warranted.

That serious expression of yours morphs into eagerness, a smile forcing its way across your lips.

“As long as I can do my job without too many distractions, and as long as my office doesn’t find out – I’m okay with it.”

#djarrex writes #captain howzer x reader #clone trooper fireball x reader #howzer x reader #fireball x reader #howzer x reader x fireball #the bad batch #tbb #clone thirsting

[nyrasproblm]

Useless - prologue

Feyd-Rautha x reader (wife)

Word Count: 1,1K

Warning: angst, toxic Feyd-Rautha behaviors (as always), arranged marriage (yes, again), misogyny

series masterlist dune masterlist

Ginaz 📍

Sadness has flooded your life for as long as you have known. Being born into a practically destroyed house, without the same prestige and respect as before meant that you didn't have much.

House Ginaz was still considered a Major House, despite having lost the war to the Moritani, their planet and home were still considered the birthplace of talented swordsmen and weapons masters.

Even though your parents were dead, you had your older brother to guide you, care for you and love you. You trusted him with all your life and heart.

You thought that until he did what he did.

— This is treason. We have an agreement with House Atreides. — you argued.

— House Atreides did not help us in the war, our parents then dead because of them. — he rubbed his temple, irritated.

— Our parents are dead because of House Moritani, the Atreides helped us but the war was lost. Do you have any idea what will happen if they find out you want to marry me to a Harkonnen?

You sat on one of the chairs at the large table, reached across the table and held his hand, he raised his face, his eyes looked tired, he was exhausted.

— Reconsider this, brother, please. — you said almost in a whisper. Even though your brother had carried out an investigation and had all the traitors inside the Palace killed, you still feared that some information would be heard and used against you.

— We need some way to get closer to the Empire, our House can return to its glory and the Harkonnen are our ticket to do so. — he shook your hand.

— The Atreides have just been appointed by the Empire to control spice production, your logic is meaningless. — you frowned.

Your brother swallowed hard and looked away. He was hiding something, you knew it. Your brother practically raised you and invested everything he got into your education, you had knowledge of politics, geography and many other arts, and you could speak your mind on these subjects in his presence.

— The Harkonnen are closer to the Empire. — he leaned back against the back of the chair.

— What about them practicing cannibalism? You will send me there, I will have his heir and then I will be devoured, literally. — you sighed irritably.

He turned his head violently towards you and sat up straight, squeezed your hand tightly and took a deep breath.

— Don't say that, I can't lose you.

Even though you were very angry about what he had done, you knew he loved you. You squeezed his hand and closed your eyes.

— You're going to accompany me there, right?

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

Giedi Prime 📍

— And why can't I take her as a concubine, anyway? — Feyd-Rautha asked as he twirled one of his blades in his hand.

— Because political agreements aren't made this way, nephew. It would be disrespectful and like it or not, she still belongs to a greater house, all the most talented swordsmen in the known universe leave there. — the great baron gestured with his hand full of rings.

— And they still lost the war. — Feyd sneered.

The baron floated until he was facing his youngest nephew.

— They still have great military power and our armies can increase their skills with them. Furthermore, you would provide an heir to our House, to ensure the Harkonnen future.

Feyd stared at his uncle's fat face without looking away.

— And before you ask, we can't discard her after she bears you a child, we need to keep this alliance standing. You can do what you want with her, you can have as many children as you want, but don't be so heavy-handed, I don't want her to complain to her brother. — Baron Vladimir placed his fat hand on his nephew's face.

Feyd clenched his jaw.

— When will she arrive?

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

Feyd faced the ship's ramp opening next to his uncle, his hands clasped behind his back, his face as stoic as ever.

The ramp opened fully and your brother walked out in front, you were being escorted by some guards from your house. Your brother started down the ramp and walked along the open path until he was in front of the Baron, you followed behind him.

You looked around lightly, feeling uncomfortable at the sudden lack of colors, the black sun of Giedi Prime bathed everything and left everything in black and white. The air was thick and uncomfortable.

— My lord Baron, it is a pleasure to be in your homeland, thank you for welcoming us. — your brother bowed slightly.

— My lord, welcome to Giedi Prime. — he opened his arms and turned slightly in his chair, as if trying to show the magnitude of his planet. — This is my youngest nephew, na-baron Feyd-Rautha.

You looked up at the mention of his name.

— It's a pleasure, my lord na-baron. — your brother bowed slightly again and turned, gesturing for you to come closer and as you did so, you felt the weight of the gaze of the two men in front of you. —This is my younger sister, the beautiful future of the Ginaz house.

You took a few steps forward and bowed.

— My lord Baron, my lord na-baron, it is an honor to be on Giedi Prime. — you said politely.

— Come closer, my dear. — the fat Baron said and extended his hand to you.

You walked over and accepted his hand, you didn't face the young na-baron directly, but you still felt his heavy gaze on you.

— We were blessed with something as beautiful as you in our family, an extraordinary beauty, isn't it, nephew? — he turned his face to Feyd and pulled your hand towards his nephew.

You swallowed hard as you turned your face to face your future husband. Feyd took a few steps towards you and took your hand.

— Indeed, uncle. — he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, you shivered. — Such a beautiful thing.

You heard your brother shift uncomfortably behind you. Before you could pull away, Feyd leaned over and whispered in your ear:

— I can barely wait.

You pulled your hand away and approached your brother again.

— The wedding will take place on the same day as my nephew's birthday, Feyd will come of age and we will have a tournament in the gladiator arena, you are invited to watch. — the baron turned to your brother.

You saw the amused look on Feyd's face and looked away.

#feyd x you #feyd x reader #feyd rautha #dune fanfiction #fanfic #giedi prime #fem reader #x reader #writers on tumblr #writing

[kindasleepywriter]

An Unexpected Visit (Cal Kestis x Mechanic!Reader)

Summary: You find a little metal friend in your lonely workshop on Koboh and you have no idea where he came from. The answer to that question brings you more hope than you thought it would.

Warnings: Small blood mention.

Words: 3.8k

Note: Thought I'd post a little something while I work on the next few chapter of BoP! Pretty sure this is gender neutral, but if im wrong don't hesitate to point it out!!

Koboh was a hot planet to live on even on its coldest days. There was no such thing as frost here, and snow was out of the question. The native population of the planet was used to it, buildings designed to keep out the sweltering air and clothes made of the thinnest materials.

You, however, hated it.

You’d been warned the planet was warm, but no one had quite mentioned how high the temperature really was. You regretted trusting the Ihi Tib that had brought you here more than anything, but you’d used up all your credits on that trip and there was no way in hell to make that money again to leave, not while working here.

You longed for Habo, the little planet you’d decided against in favor of this one. No raiders, no empire soldiers, just nature and its shy inhabitants. No droids either, but there wasn’t any here either, so you didn’t care. Sometimes, you dreamt of reaching its lush forests and mountains and feeling cold drops of rain on your skin.

The metal roofing of your shop did you no good either, heat waves often visible above it. Its only room felt like a furnace even at the best of times, and you weren’t a stranger to the feeling of sweat-soaked clothes sticking to you uncomfortably anymore.

You tinkered with a metal detector that some prospector had brought to you, taking the opportunity of the night’s barely detectable coolness to work on a project. Apparently, it had stopped functioning properly after it’d been dropped into a chasm. By the looks of it, you were surprised it even was in one piece. Well, mostly in one piece. Maybe the revenue you’d make from this might be able to pay for new boot soles, yours having almost completely disintegrated because of the burning sand that covered the entire region.

The only sound in your workshop was the harsh grating of your screwdriver against the detector’s metal, as you tried to pry open its chassis. The thing just wouldn’t budge, and you considered whether the boots were even worth it.

A whistling sound startled you, the old screwdriver slipping and taking a chunk out of your palm. You swore and tugged a rare oil-free cloth from the toolbox beside you, hitting your head on your work lamp in the process and swearing again. You pressed the cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding and looked towards the open room to determine where the whistling had come from. The door to the shop was locked, you’d triple-checked it while closing. Was this one of the raider lackeys trying to draw you outside again? You’d fallen for it exactly once and promptly learned not to investigate strange noises you might hear outside, but this sounded like a mechanical whistle, not a breathing being.

The strange whistling sounded again, this time from behind you. You spun on your heels, tied the cloth around your hand, and reached for the rusty rebar you kept by your workstation. Nothing seemed amiss at first glance. Had you imagined the sound? Maybe the heat was getting to you, you hadn’t refilled your water canister since this morning. Dehydration hallucinations were rare for you, but you’d still had your fair share, especially when you’d just arrived to Koboh. Getting used to this planet had been a challenge.

Suddenly a flash of red and white crossed the room, hiding behind a wooden bin you used to store your own unfinished projects. The whistle came again, followed by a few beeps. A droid, you realized. He’d been speaking binary! You’d hardly recognized it, not having heard it since your arrival. Lots of droids, the Ihi Tib had assured you, the bastard.

“Hey little buddy, can I help you?” you called, slightly lowering the rebar but still holding it tightly with your free hand. A series of beeps followed in response. It was mostly unintelligible, but you could make out the meaning of some of it.

“Yeah, I’m the mechanic here, do you need something fixed?”

A scared whistle. You crouched, putting down the rebar at reaching distance from your hands.

“I’ve let go of the iron, I won’t hurt you as long as you don’t hurt me, deal?”

You received no response, but the droid tentatively stepped out from its hideout. It was a cute one, you thought, a little flat head and cubical body supported by its two lanky legs. You could see his eyes focusing and zooming on you, no doubt examining you for any sign of aggression. You raised your hands as a peace gesture, and he stepped closer. He emitted a green light from his position. You laughed at the sudden scan but didn’t move.

From up close, you could see the damage he carried. The side of his left leg was blackened as if burnt, and its small body had a gaping hole that revealed his inner components. No wonder he’d been scared, one more hit and he’d be fried. He looked mostly intact on the inside, but you’d need him in your hands to determine if that was the case. You went to speak but got cut off by the loud noise of your door slamming shut behind you.

“Beedee, I told you to wait while I left to find a spare-”

You squealed at the man’s voice, grabbing the piece of rebar again, wincing as it rubbed against your clothed palm, and jumped to your feet.

A man stood at the entrance of your shop, only a few feet from you. You shakily held up the rebar between the two of you as a threat, the droid incoherently beeping behind you and hitting you with his little leg. You ignored him, and the intruder raised his hands, showing you that they were empty. You could see a metal baton at his side and a pistol strapped to his thigh, but he wasn’t reaching for them despite the threat of your rebar.

“Whoa, easy,” he exclaimed rapidly, “I’m not here to attack you!”

“What do you want?” you called, “Shop’s closed at this hour.” It was fairly late in the night, and not many people were still up at this time apart from you. No one with good intentions, at least.

He took a less defensive stance, increasingly unimpressed at your choice of weapon, or your unsteady hold of it. “My name’s Cal, I’m just here for beedee.” He gestured to the droid. “Come on buddy, we’ve got to get back to Greez.”

The cantina’s owner?

“How do you know Greez?” you asked with narrowed eyes. You’d never seen this man, and he’d never been around here. News spread fast in a village this small, you would’ve heard about it in less than a day. The cantina sometimes welcomed suspicious or dangerous individuals, and you wondered if this new guy was one of them.

“It’s a… long story. I’m just visiting. Beedee, let’s go.”

You examined the man closer, as he was clearly only interested in the droid. Now that the adrenaline had mostly run its course, your mind pointed out how attractive the man was. Sure, his armor-looking leather garments looked like they had seen better days, but it was hard to ignore his soft-swept hair, scatter of freckles and sharp jawline that his stubble didn’t quite manage to hide, not to mention his lean yet muscled build.

The droid, beedee, didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he pushed into your leg again and emitted a series of noises you couldn’t understand.

“Is he always this unclear or is my binary just rusty?” you asked the man hesitantly, keeping the rebar in hand and taking a few steps back to put space in between the two of you.

“He got shot in the middle of a fight, his vocabulator got damaged,” he said. Your grip on the metal tightened. A fight? “I was going to fly to a relay point to find him a new one, but this guy,” he shot a reproachful look at the droid, “Won’t stay put long enough for me to go.”

The droid continued his monologue. The only word you could make out was ‘Mechanic’.

“I’m a mechanic, beedee, is that why you came to see me?”

He near-violently nodded his head.

“I’m sorry he disturbed you, like I said, we need the new component to fix it.” Cal said, shrugging.

You crouched and took a closer look. You could view the injured piece now, its main area intact but its outer edge clearly burnt out. You shook your head. “You don’t need a new one, actually.”

Cal looked at you like you’d grown a third head. “Have you seen the chip? That thing is as good as dead.”

“Not if you reroute the circuit towards his internal commlink instead.”

He blinked. “You’ve worked on droids before?” he asked cautiously.

You nodded. “It’s what I trained for as a teen on my home planet, but I had the great luck of finding a dishonest pilot who promised me there were a lot of droids here.” You gestured to your near empty workshop, embarrassed. “As you can see, not quite the reality of the area. The only ones here are those the raiders keep, and I’ve made it quite clear to them on multiple occasions that they could shove it. Being on their bad side isn’t the greatest, but at least I’m not helping them loot and kill people. Used to work on ships too and loved that, but those are also lacking here.”

He looked at you as if evaluating your body language. You weren’t exactly hard to read; you wore your emotions quite visibly. “Why haven’t you left?” he asked.

“A droid mechanic on a droid-less planet doesn’t exactly have the revenue to jump on a hyperspace voyage. Maybe in a couple years, but at this rate the raiders will have found any stash of money I could keep. Anyways! what I’m trying to say is I can fix beedee if you want.” The droid beeped approvingly from where he stood, jumping up and down in triumph.

Cal seemed to weigh the risks. You didn’t blame him, some unknown mechanic on a near empty outer rim planet didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but you knew you could make the repairs easily.

“Alright,” he said defeatedly, “but if a single electrical filament is damaged, I’ll know, and you won’t get a cent.”

You shrugged, his threat not scaring you. The droid already had enough injuries as is, you weren’t planning on adding to them.

Beedee jumped up to the worktable you’d been working at earlier and you pushed aside the metal detector with a wince. The movement pulled on your palm painfully. The droid didn’t miss your reaction and pushed on your injured hand with a foot.

“Just a cut, little guy, nothing to worry about.” You said, perhaps unconvincingly. The screwdriver you’d used was a bit rusty, and you knew you should get a bacta patch to keep an infection from spreading, but you couldn’t afford one. You’d wash it out with water later and hope for the best.

The droid didn’t miss a beat at words and a little vial was suddenly flung up in the air. You didn’t manage to catch it, not having the reaction time you might have with more rest and water in you, but a calloused hand caught it before it could hit the ground. Cal stood next to you, offering the tube in an open hand

“A stim?” you exclaimed, picking it up and examining it, “I haven’t seen one of those in years, they cost a fortune.” You glanced towards Cal.  “I’m not sure the cut warrants using one.” you added.

The man just folded his arms and leaned against the table. “If beedee says you need one, I wouldn’t argue, or else you’ll be arguing with him all night.” he said.

You mumbled a soft thank you as you injected the stim, your hands already feeling much better after only a few seconds. You took off the cloth and despite the dark red that coated your hand, the cut had all but disappeared, leaving only a thin pink line behind. You scrubbed the dry blood off as best you could and turned towards the droid again.

He sat in front of you, presenting his exposed wiring. You picked up your smallest welder and started working, self-conscious of your beat-up tools. You could feel Cal leaning in with each detailed movement you made, unquestionably watching the process to learn how to do it himself. You worked as diligently as you could despite your focus trailing occasionally to the man that held close to your side. The slight reprieve the night air provided seemed gone, his warmth seeping into your skin.

It wasn’t a complicated job, you just needed to reroute the processor to the commlink to translate the droid’s processes into clear binary code to then bypass the burnt translator located on the edge of the vocabulator. It was a trick that was specific to this type of vocabulator though, so it wasn’t a well-known process.

You finished with the rerouting, satisfied by the clear binary beedee could now emit as he properly introduced himself to you. And idea shot through you and you slipped out from Cal’s side to reach for your spare parts bin. You rummaged through it for a moment, the droid sending you a questioning whistle.

“Wait a minute! I know I’ve got it somewhere here…” you grumbled. “Ah-ah! Here it is.”

You held out a grey piece of thin durasteel as you sauntered back to the waiting duo, grabbing your heat gun along the way. “I think I can give you a temporary fix for your casing, let me just… There! It doesn’t match your colors, but it should do the trick.” You slid a newly shaped metal plate over the spot where the casing had melted away, grinning at its sturdiness. “This won’t fix it forever; I’d need a little more time to make an entirely new one and to make it the right color, but this should keep your components safe for a while!”

BD-1, as you now knew him, spun around in circles as he tried to check out his new part. You took out a small mirror from a drawer and held it up to him so he could see. He let out a string of excited beeps and whistles, repeatedly asking Cal to look at his ‘cool looking patch’. You glanced to the man on your side and discovered him watching you intently with a small smile. You felt your cheeks heating under his stare and scuttled back a few steps.

“Uhm, I hope this all works out until you’re able to find new parts, you guys! I could get started on a new custom permanent case too, so beedee doesn’t lose his usual flair.” BD-1 whistled in approval. “Shouldn’t take me more than a few days, maybe 5 at most, if you’re interested.”

Cal nodded, his intense gaze not faltering. “I think that’d be perfect. How much for today’s work?”

“Oh no, consider it as a repayment for that stim and for the opportunity to work on a droid again. Honestly, I had forgotten how much more interesting it is than working on the prospectors’ tools. As for the pickup, if I’m not here when you come back to get it, that means I’ve gone out to trade for parts. I’ll leave the finished casing in this drawer here,” you pointed to the right one, “and you seem to know how to get past the locks. Just close it back up when you leave!”

He laughed at the remark and thanked you for your work on BD-1. The droid gave you a sharp farewell whistle despite its clear disappointment at having to leave already. He climbed onto Cal’s back as the man moved toward your shop’s door.

“Hey,” you called, “if you come around this corner of the galaxy again after picking up beedee’s casing, don’t hesitate to swing by! It’s always nice seeing someone new.”

He turned on his feet, walking backwards for a few steps. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other again, don’t worry.” He winked at you, leaving you at a loss for words, and turned back to walk through the door.

After you calmed your elevated heartbeat, you locked up after him, deciding the two unexpected guests were enough for one night. You leaned back against the door and sighed. Maybe you should’ve accepted the money. Cal seemed like a nice guy, but Koboh was getting harder every day. Habo was still on your mind, but you’d settle for anything other than this damn planet. Kriff, you’d even be willing to join a crew of wandering space pirates if that meant you actually got to do something other than retrieve and fix the same old tools over and over again. Maybe one day luck would favor you, you thought, or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

-- 9 days later ---

The walk back from trading was always exhausting. The prospectors that held the best materials were currently residing on a high cliff that hid a cave’s opening. Getting up there was arduous, but if you left early enough it was manageable despite the climbing you had to do. By the time you made the trek back, however, there was no escaping the sun’s rays, and the only thing keeping your hands from the burning rocks as you scaled down the cliff was an almost ruined pair of leather gloves. They wouldn’t last another climb, you thought, and neither would your boots.

You’d have to find something to barter with the one villager who made most of the prospectors’ equipment. You didn’t even have money for food this week, but you’d make do, like you always did. Maybe you’d go back to the cantina tonight to offer maintenance on Greez’s bartender droid. His cantina was apparently bringing in more customers this week, so maybe you could find some other work there too.

You were also looking forward to hearing more of the village gossip. You’d heard rumors of a Jedi taking down raiders all over the region when you’d gone for a drink the night before but given that the source of that information was Turgle, you were far from convinced. A Jedi would be hunted down in a minute by the Empire, especially if they used their famed weapon and left witnesses. The fisherman you sometimes saw hanging around the streams, Skoova, had however confirmed that there was indeed a newcomer hunting down raiders for sport.

He hadn’t been very talkative, only describing him as a short-haired man of average height that fought in a poncho. You didn’t know how you felt about someone wearing a poncho on a desert planet, though you did find humor at the idea of the raiders getting their ass kicked by some new guy in a raincoat. Either way, if there was a chance that this not-a-Jedi-even-though-Turgle-says-he-is guy had arrived here by ship, you wanted to find out more no matter his unusual taste in clothing.

You entered your workshop after the long walk back from the prospectors, bracing for the intolerable heat of your metal cage. You stored what little you’d brought back in its rightful place and dragged your feet to your worktable, ready to start working on another tool a prospector had given you to fix. You remembered distantly that Cal still hadn’t swung by to pick up BD-1’s new case.

You peeked inside the drawer and found it empty of the custom case. There were a few credits in there, thankfully enough to cover the material you’d used for the case, plus a couple more. Despite the much-needed money, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Of course, the one day you left your workshop had to be the one when he decided to come here. You sighed and pushed the drawer away, rubbing your eyes with your palms, hoping (and doubting) that he would visit again. You didn’t even know what region of Koboh he was from, you didn’t recognize his accent at all.

A glimpse of white caught your eye before the drawer shut completely. You reached towards the unknown object and found a folded note that you were sure hadn’t been in therebefore you left. You opened it and didn’t immediately recognize the handwriting.

-

Thank you for the case, BD-1 is practically begging for a couple more designs (to match my ‘rizz’ - I have no idea what that means. He convinced me to wear an old grey poncho I had just so we matched and I fear giving in to the different colored cases will be the start of a slippery slope, but how could I say no to the little guy?)

I’ve gone off-track – What I mean to tell you is that if you still want to leave Koboh, there will be a ship (it’s mine) at the landing pad until 1500 tomorrow. Bring what you need, but I have all the essentials on board. Food and water I mean, and maybe I have a spare toothbrush somewhere too?

Anyway. We’ll figure it out.

I can drop you off somewhere if you want, but I wouldn’t mind a mechanic on board if you’re interested. Can’t guarantee regular hours or absolute safety but hey, still more interesting than metal detectors, right?

This might be my last visit to Koboh in a while.

P.S.: BD-1 wants you to know you’re the only one allowed to fix his leg, and that he ‘requires you on board’. His words, not mine. He shot an electric dart at the last person who tried to repair it (me).

Cal

-

You couldn’t help but let out a loud celebratory shout as you read. He had a ship, and you were finally getting out of here! No more prospectors whining at the time it took to fix their tools, no bedlam raiders trying to kick through your door in the middle of the night, no need to refill your water supply from the well that stood well over a mile away.

You’d happily make BD-1 a thousand little metal outfits to match Cal’s ponchos if he wanted-

Your mind screeched to a stop. Hadn't that been the outfit Skoova mentioned?

You remembered what Turgle said about the second newcomer, the one he had called a Jedi. You didn’t remember ever reading about that order using guns, but… Cal had been carrying another weapon. The metal handle, you now realized, that was hanging at his side.

Oh kriff.

Had the idea while building the BD-1 Lego set. I meant for this to be just a little 1k meet-cute oneshot, Of course, me being me, i wrote 5k. Edited it a little, and it's as short as I can tolerate lmao

My first time posting for Star Wars! Still not over Survivor despite having played it more than 100 hour in the first two weeks i got it, and having done reruns since. The double-bladed stance has me in a chokehold.

Tell me what you think, and check out my masterlist!

#Cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #cal kestis x you #jedi survivor #jedi fallen order #jedi video games #star wars jedi #star wars #fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic

[cyjammy]

Vox and Valentino: A Display of Trust

VALENTINO AND VOX

Not going to lie, I was the most excited for this dynamic and it just barely beats out Vox and Alastor’s rivalry. For four years they were both the big unknowns only seen for about 30 seconds in the pilot.

There were theories about their dynamic that I hoped to god wouldn’t be true in the show.

Because they didn’t make sense, they looked friendly with each other when they hunkered down for the extermination. And there was no way one sinner (Val) could create an empire alone.

AND I’M SO HAPPY THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.

Valentino being hot headed and brash was not on my 2024 bingo card, but I’m here for it.

(Yes, he’s a bad person. So is everyone else in the show. Alastor hangs out with cannibals and most likely participates. It’s a show about Hell.)

I LOVE HIM. I love everything about him down to the voice, the fluctuating emotions, the drama, the possessiveness — ALL. OF. IT.

I love me some fucking drama and I was LIVING for the back and forth between him and Vox.

Valentino is in charge because of the power he has.

He’s not a words guy, he uses action. He refuses to change his ways because that’s what got him to the top. He’s ready to hunt down Angel just for moving out.

Mind you he still goes to work and fulfills his side of the contract, Valentino just can’t handle not having control.

Micromanaging Angel’s life down to the smallest of details. Controlling who he can talk to, what he can wear.

He wants his plaything back in his sight, he doesn’t want him getting defiant. He wants his leash short so he doesn’t get any ideas.

And the way he gaslights the fuck out of Angel hit hard. Getting away from an abuser and then having the distance you finally need to heal, but being forced to be in contact with them is so restricting that it hurts.

Jesus that was fucking with me.

You don’t necessarily have to be smart to manipulate people, and Val knows that. Val plays the part of the fool so people underestimate him.

He feigns impulsiveness.

When asked for strategic advice he plays dumb.

That’s calculated, and it may just be written off as idiotic, but that’s probably what he wants.

He has to be playing dumb, there is no way he has survived this long by pure luck.

Vox makes do with him by his side because Val can gain trust and place sinners under his spell.

That makes him a valuable asset. Vox supplies the equipment and Valentino supplies the merchandise.

Because that’s all he considers those who are under his employ.

They’re things to be sold to an audience.

But Vox might not see the subtle ways Val messes with him.

Val’s a bratty, unsympathetic, monster that will do anything to get his way. With the guidance of someone with a more grounded personality removed from his issues is when he is able to see reason.

And Velvet can’t even do that, only Vox.

That shows respect and trust.

Even when Vox was spelling it out for him slowly it wasn’t a slight against him, it was a reminder and it held no malice.

If it did, Vox would have lost his temper as he did with Alastor. He kept himself measured for Val and reigned himself back in.

He may know that it won’t get him anywhere after dealing with him for so long. If Vox didn’t see Valentino as a worthwhile investment, he wouldn’t even go through the effort.

Vox knows the best way to get Valentino to listen.

Valentino is extremely self centered. Vox speaks in a way that makes Val want to care, while still making sure it benefits him as well.

“OUR brand”

“Any idea what YOU would look like chasing random whores around town”

“OUR image”

Their partnership is of the upmost importance. Vox needs to make sure the empire remains, that the Vs have their power. That they’re on top.

And that’s a goal Valentino can get behind.

Valentino backs off with disappointment, because he enjoys violence. And he wanted there to be a show.

So instead he throws out something that could really get under Vox’s skin.

Alastor.

Val could have used this information to cripple Vox, make him vulnerable during a time where he needed to stay focused.

But instead, he uses it now.

Val was bored, he knew how Vox would react, and he wanted a show.

And a show he received. Pressing all the right buttons to see his partner go mad.

I want to see more of Valentino. So far his actions could be read as surface level — dumb and erratic — or strategic.

As of now, I’m assuming he knows what he’s doing.

Anger clouds your judgement and both Vox and Val were subject to that effect within a few minutes. That doesn’t necessarily mean Val is a fool and that Vox calls ALL of the shots.

Val acts idiotic around his colleagues because he knows they won’t take advantage of him. Until I see how he is around Angel Dust outside of those voicemails or around his other employees is when that can be settled.

I’m hoping this is a strategic play, because that would be an amazing use of misdirection. All the signs are there, and it could be so.

I also love how Vox is never fearful of Val and vice versa. They both would take steps toward each other that would be misconstrued as advancing toward violence.

Neither flinch. They look a bit surprised, sure, but never scared.

The respect is there and I love the relationship Val and Vox have.

#hazbin hotel #posted before episode 4 #on my twitter #@cyjammy #vox #valentino #i love their dynamic so much #The Vs #Overlords #attention wh0r3 #manipulation #playfulness

[aliaology]

NOW THAT WE DONT TALK

summary: somehow, somewhere, cole caulfied gets yn to go to his end of the summer party down in michigan. it works in her favor due to college starting back up. pt.5

series masterlist

“no fucking way, cole.” you said into the phone, sitting at the island of your brother’s house. the sliding door nearby was open, sending small gusts of wind in, causing you to shrink closer to your body.

“oh come on, please!” cole whined from the phone. cole tried his hardest, but if he tried his hardest, his party would not be held, on the hughes property.

said party will also have jack hughes— and even trevor zegras.

“cole—“ “no come on, y/n, i havent seen you in forever. i get trevor and jack will be there, but just ignore them, please. i miss you and i dont want them to be the reason we can’t hang out.” cole pleaded.

you let out a sigh. “can i bring a plus one?” you ask. you can hear cole whisper a small ‘yes!’ in victory before speaking, “of course, is it gonna be your brother?”

“uh no— i was gonna talk to sab…” you trailed off.

“i dont care who you bring, as long as i get to see you, bells.”

there is was. the nickname you had been given one summer many years ago by cole, that soon everyone in the hughes summer house called you.

he started to call you bells because of how quiet you would walk into a room, he made the joke you needed a bell to stop scaring them. fast forward, he bought you some and forced you to have them around your neck, and the nickname just stuck.

it was almost endearing at this point. not some joke.

“okay” you whispered, bringing a leg up, resting your chest against your knee.

“when is it?” you asked.

“next weekend. so is this a yes?” cole asked excitedly. “i guess so. i better get paid back for this unexpected flight.”

“fuck yeah, i cannot wait to see you, bells.”

“cant wait to see you too..”

you sigh softly, curled in a fetal position on your bed, your white comforter draped over your body. you hated how after a year, you were still hung up on your ex, who was doing way better than you.

he had a girlfriend, your best friend, hockey, he had it all. you shared your music to the world, not as an act of revenge but as a way to pour your heart out and see if people have and are going through the same thing.

you feel lucky to know you have yet to receive a message from jack, or even his girlfriend. that doesn’t mean you havent seen the comments though.

quinn commenting every once in awhile kind of scared you. what was he telling jack? what was he telling trevor? what was he saying about you in general?

but you and quinn had a good relationship, he was practically your third older brother (right behind your actual one, and auston!). you went to him for advice about jack, or to complain about jack.

luke and you also had a good relationship. one that crumbled when you and him had a small argument over your break up with jack, and him ultimately choosing his brother. you didn’t blame him though.

sad fact is, is you believe that all the hughes brothers were your soulmates in some form. quinn and luke were your platonic soulmates. jack was your romantic soulmate, in every possible way. but not anymore,

jack is on your mind constantly. all you see is him everywhere you go. all the time its just him.

you wanted it to stop. jack was practically your roman empire and god you needed to find a new one.

but hey, at least you don’t have to pretend you like acid rock anymore, because god some of his playlists for game days were bad.

but he was happier now, right? with his new girlfriend who definitely dissed you online..

maybe its a good thing, yknow? now that you dont talk..

tags: @honethatty12 , @slaythehousebootsdown13 , @lovinbarzal , @outrunangelss , @absolutelyhugh3s , @hockeyboysarehot , @shadowsndaisies if u want tags, lmk <3

#hockey #jack hughes #nhl imagine #new jersey #new jersey devils #nhl #nhl hockey #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes #luke hughes #trevor zegras #cole caufield

[thesmpisonfire]

Thinking about Richas' signs

Richas never felt as if good enough. He always felt as if he was the lesser egg, and the one who shouldn't be here. Even if he IS his parents' shining light and all his parents (+ Bad) would destroy empires for him, Richas can't feel it. He constantly compares himself to other eggs and often he feels as if he's invading if one of his parents is having a moment with another egg (How he feels as if he doesn't belong when Empy is online with Bagi)

And since the first time Creation showed up, Richas' insecurities are brushed against his face. He kept being called lesser and Creation said more than once that they'd kill Richas if other eggs were at risk. Richas always becomes more of a brat and a little shit when he feels scared and intimidated, so that's exactly what he did. Even if he didn't have what Creation wanted, he wouldn't give any satisfaction to the scary thing that said that they'd kill him

And the thing is. Richas knows he shouldn't be here. He might have no memories, but he can feel it. His missing leg, the fact he had no accessories, how he didn't even know how to speak Portuguese or had a specific sign, no cage and no adoption certificate, he has no memories while all the others at least remember something. Richas knows he's the defective one. He knows he's a mistake and shouldn't be out there

Also, from the way the sign was written, its implied as if Richas' missing leg has scars that show that Richas wasn't "born" missing it, but instead he lost it due to something and no one took care of it. Its why he correlates his lower ranking with the leg. As if he says "Ofc no one cares for me or thinks im not deserving of protection. My leg is missing due to that"

It's not about how his disability made him a lower rank. It's worse, because it's since he is who he is, a lower rank, he deserves to lose a leg and not be taken care of

#qsmp #q!richarlyson #qsmp analysis

[amuseoffyre]

Since insomnia is kicking my arse of late, I naturally tilted into the thoughts about the nature of the 3-act structure and why S2 of OFMD may have felt off and incomplete to a lot of people.

I am fully in agreement that we lost a lot of valuable time with only 8 episodes and a lot of it did feel rushed, but for the amount of story and set-up and growth and development they needed to fit into 4 hours of television, they did astonishing things.

DJenks has said from the very start that this is a story that has been planned out to take 3 seasons. It's literally a 3-act play and we are currently right in the middle of the worst part of that timeline according to every traditional 3-act structure.

Act one/season one is self-explanatory. Like New Hope in the Star Wars Trilogy or Fellowship of the Ring, this is the set-up. We're introduced to our protagonists and antagonists, the relationships are given a foundation.

The beginning is Stede's journey to becoming a real boy. The inciting incident, the one that actually pushes his change beyond "playing pirates" is meeting Ed. The second thoughts come together in episode 8/9 after his confrontations with Jack and Chauncey and episode 10 is the climax.

Act 2/season 2 is never going to be as smooth and simple as act 1/s1. A big part of the A2/S2 job is set up for A3/S3 and this is what we're seeing and why a lot of story threads seem to have been left dangling.

Again, to call back to Empire Strikes Back and The Two Towers, the structure is much the same: the original batch of people are divided and scattered, the big enemy from A1/S1 is looming, new allies make themselves known. In SW, this meant the introduction of Lando and Yoda as allies plus the hint of the Emperor lurking in the background. In LotR, we have the Rohirrim, Gondor and the Ents as allies and the expansion of Sauron's forces in Helm's Deep, Osgiliath and the winged wraiths.

There's a clear trajectory following the A2/S2 structure:

obstacle 1 - the crews separated and struggling

obstacle 2 - the end of episode 2 and the repercussions of his actions

twist - just when things start to settle, the Ned Low situation happen and Stede kills for the first time

obstacle 3 - Ed's struggle with his identity leading to him leaving

disaster - Ricky's assault on the Republic

crisis - do-or-die battle because they have no other choice

climax - the last 15 minutes of ep. 8 live here.

As with SW and LotR, there's an ending, but weighted with the knowledge of a story that is meant to continue. Each of those act 2 films end with the heroes still aware of the looming threat, some of them heading out on new missions, and some of them resting and healing. There's brief pause, brief respite, a moment to take a breath.

We have all the characters in place now and the battle-lines have been drawn. Luke still needs to confront Vader (I see you, impending Ed and Hornigold confrontation), Frodo still needs to destroy the ring, Aragorn still needs to lead the army against the Black Gate, the second Death Star is still hanging in the sky.

I'm so excited to see what S3 brings because we have so many arcs ready to go: Zheng's vengeance trip, the inevitable enforced out-of-retirement arc for Ed and Stede, Hornigold, Ricky trying to maintain his tenuous control of the republic given how many of his people were killed when the crew escaped, the pirate rebellion gathering forces.

Also how often do we get shows/films where the supporting cast are given this much storyline? We have a named/speaking-role cast of upwards of 15 central characters. That is a staggering amount of people to work with, when most shows would only focus on the leads and a couple of their friends. Six is the average for most TV shows, while comedies can inch higher because ensembles, but most ensembles don't get as much as our crew did.

I know a lot of people aren't happy about Izzy's death. I know I would have liked to see him a lot more, because he's such a grumpy old bitch and I love him and him affectionately roasting Ed and Stede would have made my entire month. But I'm also aware that narratively, as a figurehead of the old ways of piracy and "we were Blackbeard", it was a symbolic death as well - a sign of the death of the old ways of piracy and of Blackbeard as was.

(Also, they Obi-Wanned him. I'm not over that. Gave him the "if you strike me down I will become more powerful" speech. I'm just... guys, your star wars nerdery is showing XD)

So while it was flawed in places and pacing, given the scale of the story they're telling, the number of pieces and characters they had in play, and the arcs they have been setting up while also still keeping the humour, I am giving a standing ovation for a remarkable piece of work.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd meta

[vodika-vibes]

Can you please do Blue Daisy and Anemone for Crosshair with a Bounty Hunter Reader? I really love your stories, you're doing amazing!

For The Love Of A Sniper

Summary: You're a Bounty Hunter and Crosshair is your partner in every way. And when your family threatens you, Crosshair offers to deal with it.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1234

Warnings: Crosshair is soft

Prompts: Blue Daisy - Long Term Loyalty, Anemone - Undying Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted, I was going to make this a sequel to my recent Crosshair series, but I had a better idea!

When you were a little girl, your parents planned your life almost to the minute. You were ferried from school to dance lessons or music lessons or voice lessons or language lessons. Every second of free time had to be accounted for.

You didn’t have time for friends, and barely had time for family.

Your parents also planned your outfits, frilly dresses in pastel colors and your hair meticulously curled every morning, and then styled with bows and ribbons. And shoes that were so uncomfortable that, on more than one occasion, you considered cutting your toes off so it would hurt less.

Even your schools were devoted to making you the best daughter. High end boarding schools with even more high end finishing classes, with the end goal of sending you to Naboo to attend Theeds Law School.

Perfection was the expectation.

And you were never perfect.

The day that your parents dropped you off at Law School, you dropped out. You managed to get the school to send the refund, nearly 3 million credits total, to your personal bank account, and then you spent a massive chunk of money cutting and dying your hair, and then buying a new wardrobe. 

Within a week of your parents dropping you off on Naboo, you were gone.

That was four years ago. And over the last four years, you’ve made something of a name for yourself as a bounty hunter. You have your own ship, painted vibrant purple and named Spoiler, and you often bounce between cargo delivery and Bounty Hunting, based on what is the most profitable at the time.

Sometimes you do both at the same time, just for funsies.

And you know, because you’ve seen it, your name is plastered on missing persons lists and on bounty boards. Too bad that you don’t look anything like the cherub looking girl on the posters anymore. 

In fact, the only person who might recognize you as the girl in the poster is your boyfriend. And even then, only because you told him. 

Speaking of said boyfriend-

You hang your body armor on the rack in the cargo hold, and climb the stairs to the main part of the ship. You slide open the door to the bedroom, and grin at the man stretched out on the bed. “You ever planning on getting up, handsome?”

Crosshair seems to stretch out even more, and he tucks his arms under his head, his dark eyes locked on your face, “I thought I’d be lazy today,” He drawls, “You could join me.”

You lean against the doorframe, a small smile on your lips. He really is too handsome. Especially lounging in your bed wearing nothing but the dark sweatpants that you bought him. He looks healthy, finally, having put some weight on now that he’s no longer with the Empire.

“See something you like, doll?”

You grin at him, lazy and slow, “I see something that’s mine.” You tease.

Crosshair chuckles and shifts to free one arm, “Come here, princess.” He almost purrs. And, really, how are you expected to deny that request?

You kick your boots off and climb on the bed to drape yourself across his chest. You take a moment to press a light kiss just over his heart, before you slide up to tuck your head against his neck. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm, I did.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and presses a light kiss to the top of your head, “And then I got an alert-” He uses his free hand to grab the datapad on the side of the bed, “Someone put a flag on all accounts attached to your old name.”

“Another one?” You roll slightly so you’re able to see the screen, and then you sigh, “This is, what, number five? Six?”

“Eight in the last six months.” Crosshair corrects.

“Well, following the money is step one in the ‘how to find someone who doesn’t want to be found’ handbook, I suppose.” You mutter under your breath as you roll again and fold your arms on his chest.

“You would know, wouldn’t you, princess.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like those accounts are attached to my name anymore.” You reply as you look down at his face, “Which is a shame, there’s nearly 3 million credits in that account.”

Crosshair reaches up and slides his fingers across your cheek, “Those credits have so many strings attached, you might as well be a puppet.”

“Mm, don’t I know it.” You lean in and kiss him gently, “Luckily, they won’t find me. And 3 million credits is a lot less than I would pay to never be their perfect little doll ever again.”

His eyes glitter, “Even if they did, if you think I’m giving you up without a fight-”

A soft laugh falls from your lips, “Aww, I knew you loved me.”

His lips curl up into an amused smile, “You’re alright, I suppose.” In spite of his light, teasing, words his hand tightly clutches at your hip. 

You shift and press feather light kisses across his face, “I’m not going anywhere. Not willingly.” You whisper to him.

His grip loosens slightly, “Of course not. You’d never find anyone as good as I am.” His hand slithers up your side to grip the collar of your shirt between two strong fingers, and he pulls you down to crash your lips against his. “We do, however,” He murmurs after a moment, “have to deal with this.”

“Can’t we ignore it?” You whine.

“You know we can’t.” He finally moves his other arm from under his head, and he wraps it tightly around you, “Let me handle it.”

You nervously bite your lower lip, “I don’t know-”

“I’m not going to hand you in,” Crosshair murmurs, as gentle with your anxieties regarding your family as you are with his anxiety about you leaving, “My loyalty is to you. Now and forever.”

You sigh, “I know. I just don’t like you going off on your own.” You kiss him quickly, and then press a longer, slower, kiss against his lips, “I never wanted to demand your loyalty.”

“You never had to.” There’s something soft and vulnerable in his gaze, and you think you love him a little more for it, “You didn’t expect my loyalty like my brothers.” He kisses you just under your eyes, “And you never demanded it like the Empire.” He drags his lips across the bridge of your nose, “You were loyal to me, so I became loyal to you.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You say warmly.

He rolls his eyes, “Then how’s this? I love you. Forever. Until there’s no more breath in my lungs. Until my heart beats it last.”

You press your forehead against his, “You’re going to make me cry and mess up my make-up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll never say anything so gross ever again.” He jokes. “What do you say, Princess? Trust me to handle this?”

“Deal. You can handle it, and I’ll just…hang out in the ship for you.”

“Deal.” He pulls you back into a deep kiss, “Later though. For now you’re on top of me and won’t stop squirming-” You release a bubbly laugh as he flips the pair of you and pins you to the bed, “Really, you brought this on yourself, princess.”

#star wars #tbb #vodika-vibes follower celebration #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

If you're currently taking requests, can you please do yandere dorm leaders + Jamil with a demigod reader like from Percy Jackson the readers godly parent can be your choice. If you're not currently taking requests feel free to ignore this

Percy Jackson Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Child of one of the big three, water bends to your will. And in the oddest moments, your father gives his two senses. Nonetheless, your power earns you a lot of respect and a lot of scorn from the average student. Of course, those interested don’t mind all that much until your powers seem to be an obstacle to your love for them: 

Malleus Draconia

“I see. Your mastery of the sea is impressive. I wonder if we spar who would fare best?”

He wants to engage with your power because it gets him an excuse to take your time 

This also helps him gauge your power against his own

He doesn’t cease his repeated sniping of people that hang around you 

Even if you actually challenge him seriously

He thinks you’re just the cutest

“Fine, my love. If you wish to challenge me let's have a wager. If you win I’ll stop my…warnings. But if I win you will forfeit all rights to speak to others. This is more than fair.”

Idia Shroud

“I feel we’re connected in some odd way…”

“Yeah….”

“Do you want to play COD?”

There’s a weird synergy that has you both respecting one another

He thinks its cool how you can heal up with magic

But his excuse for prying creepily into your privacy+ is justified by his constant experimentation to measure your powers

“W-what this camera? Ha, it’s only to track what you’d do in such a harrowing situation! I-it w-wasn’t b-because your wearing j-just a white shirt.”

Jamil Viper

“You’re a lot like Kalim, I’m sure your just as susceptible.”

“...I uh…get the feeling you’re capable of something…manipulative.”

“Wow, how insightful.”

Your dear old dad is probably the only help your getting with him

He’s often finding himself befriending you 

Despite being caught trying to hypnotize you

He makes a point to use his usual tactic to leave you alone

With plenty of time to come and hang out with him

“Scarabia’s the perfect setting, not a whole lot of water for their father to stay anything.”

Kalim Al Asim

“Yay! Twinsies!”

He’s so happy that you have an affinity for water just like him

He can’t make weapons like you do or heal yourself with it

But he thinks it's pretty cool

It's even cooler that you get really cuddly weak if you stay in Scarabia long enough

“Awww why don’t you stay! I promise I’ll bring the water as soon as we finish our carpet ride!”

Vil Schoenheit

“I doubt that. If you really were the child of Poseidon I doubt he’d let you walk around with skin as dehydrated as yours.”

“Gee thanks, Vil.”

“Yup that’s what I’m here for.”

He knows he’d never be able to overpower you

But he’s not all that hurt

Where you can pride yourself on your strength it doesn’t do anything against his finesse and intellect

Which he prefers

because what power couple doesn’t complement one another with their flaws and strengths

And while you may be willing to entertain these invasive welps bold suitors

He’s not so lenient

“Where you wish to merely scare them off, I wish to punish them. It’s only a given that we mirror one another, in the method.” 

Leona Kingscholar

“Join Savvannaclaw, you herbivore. You still have some evolving you can do.”

Strong mates are always fought for in life

And to make his mark he has to sand fight off the competition

The next part will be winning your heart or successfully taming you

Just give him time, he’ll make it happen

One way or another

“Ha let’s exercise I want to see how far you’re willing to go.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“With your kind of power…you could overthrow the entire empire within the coral sea!”

“Uh, I guess.”

“You guess? (Y/n), we could bring all of those who laughed at me to their knees. Metaphorically speaking.”

“They…bullied you?”

“...”

“Aww Azul…”

“S-shut up! Let’s just put them all in their place beneath you”

He loves you immensely 

And while he may seem that he’s always aiming to slip you into a contract for ‘sea conquering’ 

He’s after something more

He’s after you

His pearl, his angelfish, he wants to be your plus one as you right the world

“Ho ho what a predicament. Why don’t we negotiate the subject of payment, after the broken china incident with Grim, we wouldn’t want you to fall into debt.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“I hardly believe your dyslexia is attributed to such a trait.”

“Bet. Write something in Greek I can do it.”

“...I stand corrected.”

“Ha see?!”

“Nonetheless you’re in desperate need of my studying prowess. Come to Heartslabyul.”

He is enamored by you 

The powers and heritage just add another layer

But he finds you are lacking for someone so kind

Or rather that you don’t have conviction

In your studies or in your boundaries

You don’t need to worry he’ll do that for you

Collaring anyone who gives threatening looks  and any look in general

“Off with your head! I decree that you will be punished for the breaking of the Queen’s law: that no one touches the Ramshackle prefect but you’re queen!”

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst dormleaders #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere leona x reader #yandere leona kinsscholar #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere vil x reader #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere twst #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere jamil viper #yandere jamil x reader #yandere jamil #yandere kalim al asim #yandere kalim x reader #yandere x you #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere twst x reader #yandere twst malleus

[thedaughersofferrix]

Birthdays

(work is not nsfw, but this blog is generally intended to be 18+)

synopsis: cal forgets about his birthday. you don't.

pairing: cal kestis x gn! reader

content warnings: pining, fluff, reader is a jedi

word count: 1.5k

a/n: something short and sweet to say happy jedi survivor release everybody. game looks amazing & i'm so happy to see cal again. might be a part 2, but i'm not sure atm

if cal kestis has a million fans, then i'm one of them. if cal kestis has one fan, then i'm them. if cal kestis has no fans, that means i'm dead.

-

Cal decided that fighting the Empire would be a priority in his life five years ago.

After he destroyed the holocron so the force-sensitive children in the galaxy could live in peace, that was his vow.

The Mantis crew got to work; blowing up Haxion Brood bases and wiping out legions of stormtroopers at a time. The fight thrilled him and every battle only left him in anticipation of the next.

It got to the point where he struggled to think of anything but the fight. Every thought was the next move, their wrongs and the perpetrators. The scars, the injuries and the losses continued and Cal never wavered.

He knew it was an obsession, but he just couldn’t help it. It was a need, etched into his soul and a part of his identity. His was Cal Kestis. The rebel Jedi, the most wanted man in the Empire. And the most dangerous.

Then he met you. 

Well, he met you again, because he’d met you years ago, back when the temple on Coruscant was a Jedi temple. When Master Tapal was alive and little Cal’s mind couldn’t even fathom an Empire taking everything from him.

You’d been his crèche-mate and friend, long before either of you had been padawans.

In between lessons, you would spar or lounge in the dining hall, where most of the other younglings liked to loiter. He formed a puppy-love crush on you that made his Master chuckle. It’s only natural, Cal. The feelings will fade with time. He has half-right, Cal supposes.

He remembers vividly the last time he saw you when he and Master Tapal were minutes away from loading onto a cruiser with their clone troops. Thinking back, he’s embarrassed by how hesitant he was to leave you.

Don’t get all sentimental about this, you told him wisely. We’ll see each other when we get back.

It was so hard to tell himself you were dead. 

Cal Kestis was the last living Jedi, fighting against the Empire that deemed his kind a traitor and punished them for crimes they never committed.

You had died, so had your master and so had everyone else he once knew. That had been difficult for him to accept.

Merrin and Cere understood the pain and that helped, at times. Though sometimes he didn’t want to understand. He wanted to see you, feel your arms embracing him and hear your voice in his ear. He didn’t talk about you to them though. He wanted something for himself, a little what-if to hold on to during the nights he felt particularly melancholic. 

Then came his trip to Segra Milo, to speak with Saw Gerrera about his next move.

By that point, the Partisans recognised him on sight and offered him only a nod of acknowledgement when he passed by. 

There you were, in all your glory. Older, a bit more rough around the edges (like himself) and even more attractive than you’d been about nine years ago.

When the two of you locked eyes and time bowed at your feet, to allow you both this moment of silent disbelief.

“Cal?” you had whispered. He whispered your name back and you smiled widely. 

You embraced him like he had been so desperate for you to do. And he heard your voice, the one that had previously only reached him in dreams.

“I thought you died,” you told him.

“I thought you died,” he said, in a single breath. Emotion threatened to explode from his chest until Saw Gerrera cleared his throat.

“I hate to break up this lover’s reunion,” he said. “But we do have a war to fight.”

“Tonight,” you whispered into his ear and he felt like a padawan with a crush again.

Sure enough, the two of you made a rendezvous under the moonlight. The cavernous, dangerous terrain of Segra Milo felt so inviting that night.

You explained to him that you and your master had been ambushed by your own troopers. You and your master were separated when they received the orders and by luck, you weren’t the one in a room full of clones. Quietly you found an escape pod and left for the nearest planet. You cut your padawan braid and disassembled your lightsaber on the same day. The kyber crystal that powered it hung from your neck, hidden behind layers of clothing.

“One day I watched them string up a man for dropping his drink on a trooper's foot,” you recalled to him. “They claimed he had done it as an act of civil disobedience and that it was anti-Imperial activity. I rebuilt my lightsaber and started looking for the Rebellion the same day.”

You were the same person he remembered, only better. Now you were stronger and smarter, without losing your humanity. 

The next day, you were separated again. You were travelling to Devaron to provide the Partisans there with support. He tried to go with you, but you sagely reminded him of the danger of two Jedi being found together.

You exchanged comm links the night prior and hugged tightly before you boarded your ship and he the Mantis. It reminded him of the one you gave him before what he thought had been your demise. He prayed he wouldn’t have to remember this hug the same way. 

“Until next time, Cal,” you said, hopeful and bright.

“Until then,” he replied, leaving you with a smile.

The next time he saw you, he thinks he might have hugged you tighter than he’d ever hugged anyone.

There had been a next time, he thought. There could be another one.

And there was. In fact, there had been many next times. He couldn’t count on his hands how many times he had gotten to see you. On the good days, you spoke and drank together. On the days, you fought and mourned together. But you were together and it was so much easier than it had been before.

Recently he’d probably gone the longest without seeing you, which made him realise the effect you had on him.

The Empire was still are the forefront of his mind, almost always. It consumed his actions and words. Slowly but surely, however, you had been weaselling your way into an important position in his life.

He didn’t care about the Empire when he was looking at you and he may as well have not met an Inquisitor when he’s hearing your laugh. You were there and he didn’t need to think about any of that.

Then, when the gap you filled was empty again with your departure, he was consumed by the need to fight once more.

He forewent sleep and food, only collapsing when his body refused to preserve and eating when the hunger pangs came. Fight, fight, fight, was all he could think about. It never really occurred to him to celebrate his victories or even do simple things, like check the date. 

But you returned to him again and reminded him of what he was missing.

“A win like this is worth sitting down for,” you insisted, sitting beside him at the fire. “Besides, today is special.” His brow furrowed. 

“What’s today?” he asked you, which made you laugh, loud and beautiful.

“You can’t be serious, Cal.”

“I am! What’s today?”

“Cal,” you sighed. “It’s your birthday.”

His mind went blank as the gears started to turn. “Oh,” was what he came up with. You laughed at him again.

“Did you really forget?” you asked him. 

“I haven’t celebrated it in years,” he admitted and you frowned, making him wish he lied. He hated it when you frowned, though you did make a cute face when you were angry.

“Well we’ll have to make up for that, won’t we?” you announced, standing from your seat and downing your drink. “Stay here for a second.” He nodded and you slipped away.

You returned not long after, with something behind your back.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed. He looked at you curiously. “Just do it.” His eyes fell shut. He heard you shuffling and muttering something to BD-1. “Put out your hands.” He open one palm and pushed it toward you. “Both of them.” He opened the other. He felt a weight in his left hand, then in his right.

“Open.” 

Cal was greeted by a cupcake in his left hand and a multitool in his left.

“I tried to find a cake, but apparently Devaronians aren’t very fond of them,” you explained. “And this,” you pointed to the multitool. “I bought this for you back on Corellia, but you were gone before I could give it to you. It’s got everything you need to keep Beedee in working order.” BD-1 chirped happily at that.

Cal was starstruck. He hadn’t experienced softness like this since before the Clone Wars. Suddenly his chest felt fuzzy and his face was hot. 

“Thank you,” he managed. “No problem,” you answered breezily.

He shared some of the cupcake with you, but you insisted he had to eat at least seventy per cent of it. The multitool found a place on his belt, though with the amount of combat he saw, he’d be using it soon.

You sat beside him at the fire on his birthday and Cal Kestis felt hope again in a way like he’d never felt before. Hope for not just the present, but the future.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars jedi: survivor #star wars #star wars fanfiction

[bloodandthestars]

・✧ — 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐄

tags: NO SPOILERS!, a part in the HE ATE MY HEART series, antihero fwb! reader, takes place before atsv, little translations this time (fantastic, fuck), of course mdni.

author’s note: hello everyone! thank you for 155 followers?? never thought this would happen, much less me ever posting my work. so thank you for taking a chance on me! i hope you’ll enjoy where I’ll take this (when i figure it out lmao)

EDIT: so I’ve discovered that Miguel doesn’t have a spider sense, so let’s just have him go off of his enhanced senses instead, sorry for the error!

wc: 4.8k previous masterlist

You weren’t exactly knowing of Nueva York’s high elite, other than what you could use to your advantage. They were so high on their pedestals, that they think no one will climb to touch their things. And those that did, hid them within layers of secrets and security. That’s where you come in.

For the right price, anything can be known by anyone. Cooperate coverups, measly affairs, underground operations— you charge triple for anything connected to the government, god forbid. You could retain information that could crumble empires and not bat an eye.

You’ve been working with Miguel for a couple of months now. You weren’t used to working with someone else and well, neither was he. But so far, you had nothing for a cause to keep a knife behind your back.

Weeks went by without another word from the arachnid— at least on the work-related side of things. Behind closed doors was an entirely different story you both knew too well. You didn’t take notice, as he was usually tight-lipped on his plans. That was until you pulled out a hint of what he was doing at your previous job at Oscorp. It was only at your last hookup however that he mentioned a new job for you.

You adjusted the earring back to fit snugly on the jewel and more thoroughly, the mic underneath it. Your eyes scan over your attire when he speaks from behind. “I heard it connect.”

You turn around, seeing his broad backside covered by a formal jacket. He turns around, adjusting the dress shirt’s cuffs underneath. “So it should work fine.”

You hear him, understand the words he tells you, but god how could you ignore the sight in front of you? Your eyes go to what harnesses his shoulders, a cool grey metal sitting atop each one. You see how the fabric compliments the hue of his skin. He left the jacket unbuttoned, allowing your gaze to go down the buttons of his dress shirt. With further observation, you could see how tight they were in holding his body, the curves of his abdomen evident in the fit. He should wear black more often, you thought.

Miguel coughs, and your attention goes to his face, where he sends you a look. You raise your brow at him. “I heard you.”

He hums, adjusting the other cuff. “Didn’t seem like it.”

“Just seeing how your clothes fit you.”

He looks up to give you another look, looking back down to the empty hole for his cufflinks. “I don’t know why you have me wearing this…thing.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. The pieces upon his shoulders went into an abstract shape on his upper back. It was in metallic silver, shining with an alchemy symbol edged into it. You step forward, high shoes making light thumps against his bedroom floor.

“Because you were invited to an elite party. They don’t exactly dress in something as simple as a prom date from eons ago.”

“This is still an operation, don’t you think blending in would be the right call?”

You scoff at the sarcasm in his tone, looking down at the small case of various cuff links. You study each of them as you speak. “Blending in would be a crime to them and only get you noticed more. If you stand out in a crowd who’s trying to do just as much, that’s when you’re in a sea of secrecy.”

Your fingers trail over the different shapes, textures, and images edged into the small accessories. His eyes follow, listening.

“Who are you going as?”

“Myself.”

“So you have to try, but not too hard. As just a scientist, the middle ground is what you aim for.” You hand picks out a silver pair, with triangles cut into its shape. You display them out in your palm to him with your head up to meet his gaze. “I picked out something subtle.“

“This is subtle-?”

You laugh. “Best believe this barely scratches the surface on what they consider formal fashion. With your loathing, it was the best I could do with such a lost cause.”

Miguel looks up from your palm, then down, then back— slowly grabbing the cuffs from you. He goes to put them on, but after watching him fiddle with them for a minute or two, you step closer and let your hands take over. Silence falls over the two of you, both looking down to watch your hands.

“Lost cause, huh?” He mutters in a low tone.

You glance at him, going back to pinning the cuffs. “I only ever see you naked or in high-tech spandex. You’re not exactly giving me a good impression of range.”

The cuff secures the fabrics in a final tug. Your fingertips brush over the veins of his wrist, turning it over when you finish. You look up to him, voice going just as low as his does. “…but this is a good start.”

A small smirk appears on his face and you return it with ease.

You get into the penthouse first, with Miguel arriving a couple of minutes later to not draw suspicion. Whoever was hosting the party obviously had the cash to go all out. There was a champagne tower in the corner of the vast foyer. Guests in another interacted with Alchemax’s latest in augmented reality, giving the company their oohs and ahhs. You could immediately tell that the foyer alone could cost a fortune. It held a high ceiling due to the various floors. Long glass panels gave the guests a fantastic view of Nueva York’s skyline— lit in a technological blue.

You pretend to adjust your earring in the reflection of an extravagant vase, hearing it click to life. “You inside?”

“Mhm.”

You didn’t have to see him to know that his jaw was locked shut. Miguel takes note of the guests who were in small clusters across the space. He recognized a few faces, holding the disdain from his expression for a few others. It bubbles higher when he sees Alchemax chairmen socializing about “How’s security looking?”

You take a glance around the room, huffing. “Three security men in each corner of the room…including at the hall with the stairs. What a tool.”

Miguel huffs, not still hiding his glare into the crowd.

Your lips press together in thought. “Do you remember what you’re supposed to be doing?”

“Surveillance, look for an entry point and-“

“No, what you do during surveillance.”

He frowns, resetting his jaw so that he can resist a groan. “I know what to-“

A man comes up to him, and you can hear his voice faintly through your connection. “My, that is an exquisite piece! Such detail in the marking- Do you mind telling me who the designer is?”

Miguel freezes slightly, dropping his hand from his ear. “I- it’s Vancasa-“

“-Vancada-“ You correct.

“Vancada.” Miguel clears his throat, placing his hands into his pockets. “Excuse me.”

The gentleman raises his brow before looking over his attire one last time, then giving him a cordial nod. Miguel nods back and watches him leave to speak to others. He hears you snicker in his earpiece. “Shut up.”

“I said not a word.”

The arachnid supposed he’d have to play house, much to his dismay.

He was greeted by some of his colleagues, some that he actually tolerated. They all told him the same thing: it would be a death wish to their careers not to take an invite. Miguel hated that such intelligent people were held in the grasp of such corrupt ones, including himself. Eventually, he finds himself at the silver-lit bar at one end of the room. His eyes scan the crowd, finding you. You held a flute of champagne in your hand, letting out a fluttering laugh at what the woman next to you said. He knew you, however. It didn’t come as a surprise to him that you knew how to play with the crowd. Miguel’s eyes eventually wandered, going down the attire that you picked out for yourself to the tiniest detail. The way fabric hugs your figure, a dark blue satin that gives a slight shine. Your features seemed to be highlighted in the interior’s soft lighting. He presses his lips together with a sip of his drink.

“O’Hara!”

He snapped back to reality when two men wave him over. He takes a glance at you before taking another sip of his drink and walking a few short steps.

“Bastava, Mr. Hayward.” He addresses them with a nod. “It’s an honor to be invited to such an event.”

Each of them put out their hands to shake, and he wanted to brittle both of their hands. A firm handshake would just have to do.

“It’s so good to see you again, O’Hara!”

Mr. Hayward motions between Bastava and Miguel. “Is this the one you spoke of? The lead scientist?”

Bastava nods, a smile on display. “Yes!”

He goes around the tall table they gathered at to wrap around Miguel’s broad shoulder. “Cooperate Raiders’ finest scientist in the flesh.” He knocks Miguel playfully. “And he knows how to clean up too!”

The two elites break out into a laugh, Miguel joining in with a forced one. You were right, he was an absolute lost cause. Because if he had it his way, that arm around him would be broken.

Bastava goes back to his side of the table, refilling his glass of vodka while Mr. Hayward sipped at his own whisky. “Good to see you back at the company, O’Hara. The succession rates could never be better.”

He gives them a hard smile. “It’s good to be back.”

Mr. Hayward motions his glass in a brief toast. “May you don’t run into any other mishaps this time around for your continued stay?”

Miguel gives a short toast back. His paranoia may have gotten him over his head a few times, but with the way he emphasized it— it was almost like he was referring to what happened. And with the look Mr. Hayward sends over the glass as he drinks, it almost like he wanted Miguel to know that he is.

“Excuse me.” The two men give him short nods and he parts from the table. The arachnid practically felt bile come up in his throat from his words, taking a gulp of his drink to calm himself. The strong tang sent a kick to his head, shutting his eyes tightly so he could adjust. An exhale slips past his lips while his eyelids softened. He taps quickly into his earpiece. “Checking in.”

You hear him in your ear, getting up from your seat. “See, if I didn’t have to powder myself up, we wouldn’t have this problem of ending such a lovely conversation.”

He can hear formal laughs through the microphone, faintly picking up a “Why? You have nothing to freshen up.”

Miguel did your eye rolling for you. You give the gentleman a smile and thanks. When you excuse yourself, your face falls as soon as you turn around. Miguel catches that, giving him a slight amusement. You see him through the wave of people locking eyes. He was off to the side by an extravagant plant. You walk past, eyes forward, and stop at a mirror next to the hall you both needed to go down. Both of your backs were to each other with distance put between you. You begin patting your face, and clicking your earring in the process. “This place has a lot of rooms to cover.”

Miguel hums. “I figured.”

You continue to pat down your neck. “Did you get anything from speaking to them?”

His jaw sets again. “Nothing of use.”

His brows form a firm line as his senses began to go off. There were eyes on him somewhere. Red eyes cautiously look from side to side, finding a guard staring right at him. Before either can react, a click of glasses averts their gazes to Bastava standing atop a bar stool. A slurred chuckle escapes his lips before clearing his throat. “It’s an honor to have you all here tonight. I wouldn’t have an event going any other way. Now-” His hands flick out. “-Let’s get this music going shall we?”

The crowd cheers. Marble panels on the walls trade themselves out for black ones. With a press of a button, they emit a turquoise light out to the floor. Electronic lines are built into instruments. The crowd murmurs in wonder as they begin to play themselves. People a few at a time begin to stray towards the center of the room.

The arachnid’s sense was still going haywire. Miguel gives the security a glance before coughing into the mic. “When I approach you, just go with it.”

Your face contorted. “What-?”

“Excuse me, miss?“

You turn around to his voice, both of your earpieces shutting down with being in front of each other. You look at him up and down, looking into his eyes on what his game plan was. With his back to the guard, he’s able to dart his eyes in his direction and then back for you to catch on. His hand goes out between you both. “I couldn’t help but watch you the entire night, would you like to dance?”

You look down at his hand, then up at his figure. Your smile of amusement slips into one of formality. Placing your hand in his, you say in a hushed tone. “I would love to.”

Before he turns, he gives you a look, almost as if to tell you to behave. He immediately sensed the amusement under your facade. Miguel’s arm curls around your own, the build of his upper arm brushing against your own. You take your walk to the dance floor with a quick glance to see what others were doing. The music was light, tones of classical filling the air. You follow suit, turning to place a hand on his shoulder. The large of your hand envelopes your hip, snaking your other hand into his. Your eyes were at your feet to follow the steps in your head.

His mouth clicks. “Look at me.”

Your head shoots up in surprise, immediately going to slight your brow.

“Keep your eyes on me and I’ll lead. Think we got eyes on us.”

You take a glance at the room and then back to him. “From where?”

“My left.”

He shifts your dance, going in the motions of steps so you can see who he’s talking about. A guard from his behind looks in your direction from the corner of your eye. You did as the man in front of you asked, only using your peripherals to keep most of your focus on him. Miguel’s eyes are fully on you.

“We’ll have to go down the hall.” You say in a low voice.

His fingers press into your lower back to decrease your space, going along with the front of that he didn’t hear you. As if his senses weren’t already on ten.

“No choice?” He asks.

“Not seeing any other way around it. We’re going to have to get that guy to move.”

“Fantástico.” He mutters sarcastically, switching your perspective around once again with his lead in the dance. You can’t help but take a glance down at both of your feet, realizing just how in sync he is with his steps. “You’re a pretty good dancer.”

His face contorts to confusion, blasphemy even. “You think this is good?”

You shrug. “I’ve met a lot of people with two left feet. Terrible crowd for the club scene.”

Your jest earns you a short huff. “This isn’t even music to really dance to, much less just a step around with feet.”

“Classical is timeless to those who hold onto it. Including snobs with their heads up their ass.”

He grunts with distaste before a pondering moment of silence falls over you both. You watch him take a look at your feet as both of you follow his motions. “Maybe I’ll show you what the real stuff is.”

His mutter allows for something unknown to stir in your chest. The hand that grips his gives him a taunting squeeze. “I challenge you to.”

“To teach you a thing or two?”

Your head tilts. “Who said I couldn’t dance?”

He goes to speak, but your eyes cutting away from him stops him. He notices quickly how you spot something, the cogs slowly turning in your head.

“The one by the hall.”

“Mhm?”

“There’s one way we can get him to move.”

You surprise him by moving in your direction, turning him to your previous position where he faces the holographic instruments. Your eyes watch his face slowly draw his conclusion, looking down at you with an affirming nod.

Once you’ve secured a drink in your hand, you play out the routine of a drunken beauty. You pull out the charming smile a few giggles wandering about your eyes, catch the closest person to the panels and your foot goes behind theirs. And with a swift motion make it all seems like an accident and their drink spills onto the holographic base. It shocks with electricity, causing the crowd to gasp. You let out a dramatic gasp of your own. Miguel was right behind you as he put his hand over his mouth. Bastava quickly notices how the music ends up properly, and it goes on to address the crowd. “People people not to worry, we have mechanics on hand for this!”

His guests give him a small clap. He relishes it in full before turning to your targeted guard and signaling him to get assistance. As the guard leaves, you both look at each other in a quick glance before going into fits of fake giggles. People step back from the panels, creating a cluster of distractions, and the both of you slip down the hall with ease.

As a pair, you take cautious steps down the hallway. Each of your eyes darts left and right, looking for a space that could remotely resemble an office. Miguel was on a determined path, the sooner he could get this done, the sooner he didn't have to feel like he was suffocating.

“Wait-” You stop him. He turns around quickly, looking to the same door you do— noticeably with a keypad right beside it. You both share a look, stepping into the door. Miguel looks over his shoulder to keep watch while you pull that square glass tool from the fabric of your attire. You press a few hologram buttons then face it towards the keypad. It takes a scan of it, lighting with a projection of which numbers had the most fingerprints. The more you could do with that thing, the more curious you were about the arachnid hero.

The keypad clicks with a green light and with a part of your attire in your hand, you open the door. To your surprise the space was normal looking compared to the heights Bastava would go for extravagance. A glass panel wall was behind the desk. To the left were large cabinets, and even enough space for two lounge chairs. Miguel goes to the right at the tech board whirling to life at his presence. All of Alchemax at his fingertips if he wished. His hand itched to take control of it but he had to remain on task, making sure that their fall would be from a higher drop. You catch how he sighs with frustration, turning back to you, and hovering over the computer. “Another drive?”

“Another drive.” He says, practically trying to convince himself.

You eye him up and down, giving him a short nod and turning back to the computer. “You don’t think there’d be any physical files we’d miss?”

Miguel scoffs. “I doubt it.”

Thanks to another scan of fingerprints, your go through two attempts to finally get the password. From there you slide out of the way for Miguel to take over. As he does so, you go to the door to keep watch. Your eyes keep to the crack you let open, ears catching the clicks of the keywords and various sounds. One sounded promising with a BING!

“How long?” You ask with your eyes still on the hallway.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Be fucking for real-”

“Anyone out there?”

“No-”

“-then shut the hell up. I’ll make it go as fast as I can.”

You snicker under your breath. “Shocker.”

You hear him exhale through his nose.

Fifteen minutes pass with smooth sailing. You have yet to see a passerby to the stairs. Miguel keeps his focus on the computer for a long while, leaving you in silence, until his head perks up abruptly. So abruptly, that you whip your head around in his direction. His face scrunches. when you turn your head around, you see what might be the cause: Bastava, coming up the stairs and heading in your direction.

You turn to Miguel. “How long?” His eyes go back to the computer “Five, maybe three minutes?”

You cursed under your breath, your body starting to fill with tension. Your eyes go back out to the crack in the door. Bastava stumbles slightly, but he doesn’t lose his way.

Your tone shifts to urgency. “Miguel-”

“I’m working on it.”

With one more head turn, you see that he’s only three pieces away. You feel your heart drop quickly, shutting the door as quietly and as quickly as possible.

“Shocking-” You don’t finish the curse when something tugs your arm. Your head whips around to get only a split second of Miguel pulling you towards an opened large cabinet. Taking you both inside, he shuts the door just in time for his senses to pick up the click of the keypad.

You control your breathing the best you can after the rush of adrenaline. Your chests graze each other each time you quietly breathe. There’s a stumbling of feet, a chair sliding against the marble floor that causes you two to wince. Miguel recognizes Bastava’s voice. “Hey there, gorgeous…no no, I’m not busy at all. Just want you..to come by…maybe after the party, eh?”

You roll your eyes, turning your head in the direction of the call to hear any sign of a goodbye. Miguel was doing the same, brows furrowing suddenly. As soon as you turn your neck something immediately takes hold of him. His nostrils fill with your scent, something new, he caught. It had to be that or perhaps his senses being on eleven ever since he heard Bastava coming up the steps. He closes his eyes, the scent envelops him whole with a tilt of his head.

“What are you wearing?”

The question snaps your head his way in an instant. You look him up and down. “Under-?”

“Your fragrance.” He said with a hard tone. You question if there was restraint in his voice. Your eyes linger on him before answering. “It’s new…picked it up for tonight.”

He hums quietly. Scarlet eyes still bore into your being even when you turn to listen for Bastava. The chairman was still on the phone. Something still along the lines of convincing someone to come over— Miguel couldn’t process his words, much less comprehend them. He was tuning his words out and into your heartbeat instead. His felt like it was quickening to your pace— a light thump loose of the threads of adrenaline.

You turn your head back, startled at how his eyes look. They were almost…carnal…in a way that you only knew how.

Your tongue swipes over your bottom lip, causing him to let out a low “Don’t.”

He catches your eyes in a heated gaze. It didn’t help how close you both were. He wouldn’t have to move much to wrap around you. Your breath quickens, latching onto the sight of his parted lips. He does the same with yours, breath even heavier.

Bastava’s tone picks up. “Well, what can I do to convince you, baby? Just because we aren’t public doesn’t mean…” He scoffs with abrasiveness. “…Yes, it doesn’t matter- we’ve gone over this-”

He’s in an argument now, you know that much from that point. Everything goes in and out with your focus shifting entirely on Miguel. His eyes go lower, not to your lips anymore, but to your neck. His tongue suddenly felt *dry*, nose taking inhale after inhale of you and taking him further down the rabbit hole. Your eyes never leave him when an arm sneaks around your lower back to pull you into his body. You meet his head to line it with your own. With each of your breathing tickling the other’s face, you feel how worked he is.

Your breath hitches when he shoves his face into your neck. His air is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your hand goes to the back of his head in case you slip. His feet shuffle mere centimeters to place his other hand on the wall by your head.

“Carajo..” He mutters against you, head flooded by your scent. Now that he was fully surrounded by it, his senses soothed— barely, but enough to not raise suspicion. Your heartbeat was picking up, thumping inside his head. You feel something wet graze your neck in a slow lick, making you inhale tightly.

You’re trying to listen out for the man outside but it was growing difficult with the way Miguel was nosing your neck, as if there was any space left he had to get rid of. Every now and then, his lips brush against your neck and makes you shift under him. The hand on your back adds pressure.

“Thought you could handle me.”

“I can handle you just…” You let out a shaky exhale. “…fine.”

Miguel’s huff turns into a muffled sigh.

“…See that wasn’t so hard, cupcake. You get your sweet little ass over here after the party…Eleven…bye.”

You hear Bastava take a large gulp then sigh. A few steps go past you, making you both hold your breath. The steps stop for a few minutes then fade off to the other side of the room. You hear the door open and then shut, but you knew better than to rush out. You steady your breathing to become background noise to Miguel’s senses. He could still hear your heart calming and now, the steps of the chairman’s dress shoes echoing down his vast hall. He only eases when he knows Bastava is going down the stairs. “We’re good.”

He turns his head to be met with your nose brushed against his. Your eyes were big looking into his own. He knew you were wondering what the hell came over him. The one thing you did know was that all of what he was doing wasn’t to start anything but to give himself restraint.

Miguel swallows before you both leave the cabinet without another word.

Leaving the scene felt like the easiest part of the whole night. You two pretend to giggle drunkenly together back into the foyer, just in time to for Bastava to close the night. You slip into the leaving crowd to waddle alongside them. And since you felt eyes on you, you knew Miguel wasn’t too far behind.

You look out at Neuva’s brightly colored building from your passenger window. The car was heavy with silence, you could practically feel the weight of it right in the pit of your stomach. His hand on your thigh *certainly* didn’t help. The arachnid kept his eyes on the road, only keeping focus by kneading your flesh. Miguel glances at you through the interior mirror. Your lips were slightly obscured as you rested your chin in your palms but he could imagine them all the same.

Taking notice of the scenery, your exit flies past you at a moment’s notice.

“Not going back to my-?”

“No.”

You turn to catch his eyes in the mirror, quiet in both of your stares. Your lids lower. “…work-related?”

He turns his gaze back to the road and squeezes your thigh in his grip.

“…No.”

taglist: @manchuria @mezzke @rea-zxv @vvitcxen @pooiooi @jowtaro @deputy-videogamer @vegas-writing-den @m150-50up @simplysolo @timotheesrealgf @thecityofspareparts @miguelsfangs (dunno why it won’t let me tag you guys, trying to figure it out!)

#writing #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #he ate my heart #spiderman across the spiderverse

[r-2-peepoo]

Here is why I really doubt that the clone assassin is Cody:

So either CX-2 is Tech or they are throwing a hell of a lot of red herrings at us which wouldn’t really make sense unless the writers decided to completely switch styles right at the end, but the alternative theory people have is just not good imo.

It shouldn’t be Cody. I truly don’t believe it is and if it somehow was, then I think it would be a bad idea.

Cody is why Crosshair ultimately leaves the Empire. Jennifer Corbett actually said it herself. Cody is someone Crosshair admires and who has always treated the Bad Batch with respect and kindness even if no one else did, and it is him that makes Crosshair begin to change his mind. Mayday exposed the horror of what the Empire was really doing and Cody starts him on his journey of wanting to leave.

Cody was obviously just a throwaway character at the time ROTS came out but who he became in TCW is so important. Even if he doesn’t have the most screen time, it’s more about what he represents than anything else. His personality evolving into what it is when he is the Commander who serves with Obi Wan is very intentional because both characters serve similar purposes for their respective groups, those obviously being the clones and the Jedi. They both are imperfect people who are genuinely good at heart and it’s that goodness that is so important. They don’t know everything but they do their best to navigate the galaxy with empathy and respect for others. There are so many lovely parallels between the two of them and I think analysing Obi Wan actually allows you more insight into Cody too. They have differences of course, but there is so much that connects them and their influence on each other is undeniable.

Cody turning into this antagonistic figure would undercut Crosshair’s journey in my opinion. Cody needs to just be in the one episode to be a symbol of Crosshair’s development. Any further involvement from him devalues his contribution which was so crucial. One single episode created such a ripple effect. Obviously Cody wouldn’t choose to be like this, but even being forced against his will to become a monster still colours what he gave Crosshair and also feels like a very unfulfilling arc for him. There’s been no set-up and it contradicts everything he has ever been. Cody should stay as this pure moral character because that’s what he’s been from the very beginning. Order 66 was his moment of tragedy. There shouldn’t be anything else. It wouldn’t feel complete, narratively speaking, and I’d hate for him to be used just to develop someone else, like Rex. He just drops wisdom in random episodes of shows he’s in and then gets the hell out of there and I love him for that. The clone assassin shouldn’t be him and I truly don’t believe it is.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #the bad batch #sw #tbb #the bad batch s3 #tbb tech #cx 2 #clone assassin #codywan #commander cody

[loverhymeswith]

Let's Be Alone Together || Part Four

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Tommy's revelation is cut short by an unexpected distraction

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: This chapter contains scenes of a violent nature, including a physical attack, blood, guns and gore. Please proceed with caution. Also, a probably poor description of inside the Shelby's betting shop.

A/N: Shout out to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the love, support and whump-spiration💖

Masterlist

For half a moment, you think that Tommy Shelby is going to kiss you. His mouth - parted - is so close to your own that if either of you were to move forwards, even by just an inch, your lips would be touching. 

So close, yet so far. 

Because in the quiet of the betting shop, the two of you stand frozen; a tableau. Your hands, surprisingly steady, rest against Tommy’s broad chest, fingertips brushing the dark leather straps of his shoulder holster. His hands, surprisingly soft and warm, cup your jaw as he searches your gaze. 

“Tommy…” 

His extraordinary blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly. But it’s not the sound of his name as it falls from your lips that breaks whatever spell he’s fallen under. Somewhere in the back of the shop, a floorboard creaks.

Tensing beneath your touch, Tommy’s voice is low but urgent when he finally speaks. “Were you alone? Before I got here?”

Tentatively, you nod. Arthur had locked the door behind him before leaving earlier this morning. It’s inconceivable that anyone else could have been here with you - that you hadn’t been aware of their presence this whole time.

Isn’t it?

Tommy carefully releases you, his scar-flecked hands balling into fists as they fall to his sides. “Go,” he tells you in the same quietly compelling tone that leaves no room for argument. “Lock yourself in the office. Don’t come out until I tell you to do so.”

Deprived of the reassuring warmth of his touch, your head spins at the sudden shift in the man before you - the man now reaching for his gun. From curiously captivated to deadly calm - this is the side of Tommy you recognise. The side you have become accustomed to. 

The man who protects his empire and his assets at all costs. 

“Go.”

With little choice but to follow his orders, you abandon the wooden table in the centre of the room and hurry behind the metal bars that separate Polly’s office - and the cash boxes - from the rest of the shop. The gate shuts behind you with a heavy clang and with trembling fingers you lock yourself inside, pocketing the key.

Despite your line of sight being skewed by the bars, you watch uneasily as Tommy begins his sweep of the shop, one unwavering arm outstretched as he aims his gun into the dimly lit corners of the room. 

Is it possible he’s overreacting, or is there really someone else here? Someone who doesn’t belong. 

The thought alone causes you to falter, staggering backwards until you reach the far wall of the office. How long have they been watching you? What would have happened had Tommy not returned? Have you really been a sitting duck all this time?

With a start, you remember the gun. The small pistol Arthur had given you - an employment gift of sorts - stashed away in your handbag beneath the wooden table. If you could just make it out of the cage undetected… You’ve never fired the thing, but the intruder doesn’t know that.

Attentioned focused solely on Tommy as he slips through the curtains to check the rest of the house, you take a hesitant step forwards. Three more steps and you’ll be back at the gate. But before you can move another inch, something - someone - grabs hold of you from behind, dragging you away from the bars. 

A rough hand smothers your mouth, stifling the scream you were about to let rip.

“Make a sound and my pal over there will blow his fuckin’ brains out.”

The voice, barely more than a harsh whisper, is unfamiliar and you freeze in the foreign grip, just in time to see a shadowy figure move beyond the bars. Damning evidence of Tommy’s impending peril.

“Atta girl,” your assailant mutters into your ear, his hot, damp breath making your skin crawl. “Now, you’re gonna do exactly what I say and no one has to get hurt. We just want the cash.”

Fear paralyses your body, but your mind is whirring, desperate for a way out. Because you recognise the northern accent. You know enough about the Shelby’s business dealings to understand that it’s far more than money these Yorkshiremen are after.

Power. Revenge. War.

If you stand here silently, they will murder Tommy in cold blood.

Despite the heavy breathing of the man holding you captive, you strain your ears for the faintest sound - any indication of where Tommy is or what he’s doing. If he comes back into the shop and finds you being held hostage, he’ll take aim at your captor and it won’t end well for anyone.

You can’t let it come to that.

With concern for Tommy clouding your judgement and no better plan emerging, you say a fleeting prayer to the god you no longer believe in and discretely raise your left leg, bringing your heel down with great force on your assailant’s foot. 

The man yelps. The shock of the attack briefly loosens his grip, just as you’d hoped, allowing you enough room to wiggle out of his arms whilst simultaneously elbowing him in the stomach. As he doubles over in pain, you bolt to the gate, scrambling for the keys.

Get the gun. Get to Tommy. Get out.

From the furthest recess of the shop, you hear Tommy - alerted by the sounds of your struggle - shouting your name, his voice thick and rasping with panic.

“There’s two of them,” you yell back, no longer fearing for your own safety. You just need Tommy to be ok.

But there’s no response, and before you can unlock the gate, a hand clamps tightly around your forearm, hauling you away from the bars and spinning you around.

“You stupid bitch.” 

The man lashes out, his palm connecting with your cheek in a wicked blow. Tears spring to your eyes as your skin burns, but you manage to stumble to the side, ducking unsteadily in order to avoid a second strike.

“Didn’t I warn you, eh? Didn’t want to spill blood today but looks like you’re leavin’ us with no choice.”

The hold on your arm is relinquished, only to be replaced almost instantly by the same hand clasping your neck, thick fingers pressing painfully into your windpipe until it’s difficult to breathe. 

But apparently, this would be far too kind a demise. Because, moments later, you feel the telltale sting of metal as the cold, hard muzzle of a gun kisses your temple.

No. Not like this. 

Where is Tommy?

As you grapple to free yourself from the tight grip around your throat in a panic-stricken haze, you recollect a lesson given to you by John all those months ago - half in jest - on the basics of self-defence: how to hit a man where it hurts. 

If this is the end, at least you’ll go down fighting. Maybe they made a Peaky Blinder out of you, after all.

Your fingers scratch desperately at your assailant’s hands as he draws you closer, the dampness beneath your nails indicating that you too are capable of spilling blood. But it’s a mere distraction. He doesn’t notice you jerk your knee upwards in a violent fashion, as high as it will go, until it’s too late.

Seconds away from blacking out - or having your brains blown out - you hit the magic spot. 

The man lets out an almighty grunt as he releases you, both hands flying to his crotch as he folds to the floor. Nothing less than sheer instinct sees you lurching forwards and wrenching the gun out of his weakened, bloody grip.

You’re panting now, every breath burning as you fight to fill your lungs and clear your head. You have the gun trained on the crumpled man, but the nightmare is far from over. Behind you, there are sounds of a skirmish. Grunting and shouting as Tommy wrestles with the second intruder, but mercifully no gunshots. 

Without taking your eyes off your attacker, you slowly inch backwards until you hit the bars of the cage. The keys remain jammed in the lock, just as you’d left them.

“Tommy,” you yell, frantically. “Are you ok?” But the damage to your throat has left your voice hoarse, little more than a wheeze. 

When Tommy - understandably - doesn’t reply, you risk a glance over your shoulder, just in time to spot him grabbing the stranger by his jacket and hauling him against the blackboard. The man might tower over him by at least half a foot, but he is no match for Tommy’s pure strength. As Tommy begins pummelling his fists into the man’s face, you dare to allow yourself a moment of relief and, barely registering the horror of the situation, you look away.

Returning your attention to your own assailant, you are startled to find that, like something out of your very worst dreams, he has risen. His hideous face twists into a cruel smirk as he approaches, his pace slow yet menacing. 

“You ain’t got it in you, lass.”

Maybe he’s right. Your hands are certainly trembling as they tighten around the gun, the prospect of taking a man’s life suddenly very terribly real.

Kill or be killed. 

It doesn’t make it any easier. And you’d had the nerve to call Tommy a coward. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror.

On second thoughts, better not. Because in one moment the man is standing before you, his arms outstretched and ready to attack. The next, there is a deafening bang and he slumps to the floor, his brains splattered on the wall behind him. 

Stunned into stillness, you hear Tommy shout your name, his spent gun clattering to the ground. You’re vaguely aware of the cage opening behind you and the next thing you know, you’re collapsing into a strong, reassuring pair of arms.

“It’s over now. I’ve got you. It’s over.” 

Tommy’s hushed words are a soothing balm as he gently turns you to face him, assessing you for injury as he holds you at arm’s length. Whatever he sees quickly causes his brow to furrow and his jaw to tense, his attention lingering on the bruises around your neck.

Through tear-stained eyes you meet his gaze - a frightening, ice-cold gaze - the kind of gaze that promises a swift and painful death to those who hurt you - except he’s already delivered that, hasn’t he?

In the waning afternoon light, you take the opportunity to study him, too. His shirt is stained red and a sheen of sweat covers his skin. The lengths of his hair are damp, slicked across his forehead. But despite being in such an unusual state of disarray, there’s no obvious sign of injury, except for a small cut above his brow. 

Tommy’s fury passes and gradually, his expression softens. “I’ve got you, love. It’s ok. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?”

He starts to pull you closer as you nod mutely, but you feel something damp against your temple and you stiffen in his arms. When you touch a finger to your skin, it comes away crimson.

“Blood…” you murmur, somehow not as horrified as you know you should be.

Ever so slowly, so as not to startle you, Tommy takes your face in his hands just like before. 

“It’s not yours,” he assures you, softly wiping away the evidence with his thumb, oblivious - or maybe not - to the fact that his own hands are already stained. “You’re ok, eh. We’re ok.” 

“I couldn’t do it, Tommy. I couldn’t pull the trigger.” 

“I know.” He lowers his head, until your brows are almost touching. “And that is nothing to be ashamed of. You did more than anyone could have asked for. I saw the way you fought back. The boys will be so proud of you. I am proud of you.”

You try to shake your head, still in his grasp. “It wasn’t enough.” 

Because you should have been better. Quicker off the mark. You shouldn’t have frozen. You should have noticed earlier that you weren’t alone.

“It was more than enough,” Tommy tells you firmly. “You are more than enough. All this time, I’ve underestimated you. I thought it was you who needed protecting but now I see that I was wrong. I think maybe it was me this whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

In lieu of giving you an answer, Tommy leans in, finally closing the distance. His lips - surprisingly soft - brush over yours, a gentle caress and a silent request.

This time, you won’t hesitate. This time, you won’t freeze. Looping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself onto your tip toes and deepen the kiss, distantly wondering if he’s right. 

Maybe it has been him, this whole time.

Tommy Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @simpforbuckyb @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy @fia-thefirst @dreamy-caramel @trixie23

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #whump #let's be alone together

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Ancient queen of the forgotten seem cool, but what if she is a MILF?

Like she not interested in any relationship and just wanted to be with her baby boy but she accidentally attracted some other human fighters due to not also being attray, but she is quite intelligent and a strong warrior and leader

Like Tesla, Lu Bu, and Jack is hear eyes with the queen who seem to be oblivious of their advancement

-Ever since you won your fight you have been receiving more visitors than normal in your little corner of Valhalla.

-Your son Zerofuku liked the guests, treating them all as friends, and they were all respectful, mainly because you strung a man up after he told your son to get lost so he would speak with you.

-Zerofuku was the light of your life, and he adored you to pieces, constantly hugging you or holding your hand, and was surprisingly protective of you.

-If he heard anyone talking badly about you, he had no issues reverting to his envious form to shout and chase them off.

-However, they weren’t talking bad about you, in fact they were praising you as well as the things they would like to do to you.

-You were rather oblivious to your new admirers, being revered now as the Queen of the MILFs, not just the Queen of the Forgotten. You were confused, never hearing of that term before.

-Buddha, a good friend who found it funny that you were rather oblivious, had no issues knocking some heads around after you asked him what a MILF was. That was not a conversation he was ready to have, not just with you but with anyone!

-A few of the human fighters had been quite persistent with their visits, but they were polite, not upsetting you in the slightest.

-Lu Bu: He wanted to fight you, wanting to test your strength against his own, and while not as physically strong, your skills made up for it and you quickly proved you were not to be underestimated. He came around like clockwork, wanting to spar with you, as besides you, Thor, and a small handful of other people, mainly the other human fighters, not many could match him in a fight. It was your strength and skills that drew him in first, followed by your caring and gentle nature to children and Zerofuku, showing him that you were just as soft as you were a warrior. Lu Bu experienced very little softness in his life, most of it after his death and most of that was with you, when you would patch his wounds up, either from your own fights or his fights from others, gently scolding him for being reckless. He wanted to be even more reckless, especially if he was going to be able to sit so close to you and bask in your soft affections.

-Nikola: He was…enthusiastic, wanting to know all about your empire, as he had done his research and there were tools that you used first that in recorded history weren’t used until much later and he wanted to know how you or whoever in your time period, came up with them. You found Nikola charming, and he was a little dense himself, not realizing how close he had been getting to you until he looked away from his book he was looking over with you to praise you and got an eyeful as he looked down. Nikola surprised you with a bouquet of roses the next day, not able to look directly at you, which was rather confusing. When you brushed his hair out of his face, asking if he was alright, he ran away, blushing bright red.

-Jack: Jack was intrigued with you, you were a warrior but also soft and gentle, the perfect blend of hard and soft, and your inner colors reflected that as well, swirling almost perfectly in balance. Jack had never met someone like you before, but then again, he never met a long-forgotten warrior queen before who adopted not only Zerofuku, but other children, gods and humans, taking them under your wings and caring so softly for them. Jack longed for that himself, to be treated like that by someone who loved him like that, but he would never say anything like that to you- he was a gentleman after all. However, you and Zerofuku enjoyed his visits and Jack would always bring tea and treats and tell you both stories, from Shakespeare and from his own past. Jack loved the attention, you and Zerofuku on either side of him, it felt like family to him. Jack just wished you wore more modest clothing, as he felt like he was ogling you, but you came from not only a different time but a different part of the world. Still, he didn’t mind getting peeks from time to time, but he would never tell you that.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror lu bu #ror nikola tesla #ror jack the ripper #ror zerofuku

[scekrex]

Can you have dominant reader ensuring submissive Adam during sex that just because he has a little weight on him doesn't make him ugly or that he's let himself go? Possessiveness, if possible because while Adam might secretly think he's not much to look at, everyone has been staring at Reader's boyfriend and he's not having it.

So this is reader appreciating Adam's dad body in a non-sexual way bc dad-body Adam is my roman empire

Smother me with loving hands

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

The glorious golden wings you adored so much covered your partner's body, hiding his upper body from your view entirely as you took off your own shirt. “Quit that shit and lemme see ya, big guy,” you basically demanded as you stripped out of your underwear, watching the first man carefully. The bathroom mirror in front of you gave you the perfect view of Adam.

Ever since someone had commented on how Adam ‘let himself go’ in public while the both of you had been out for lunch, the brunette had acted rather insecure whenever it came to being naked in front of you, you truly didn’t understand why, you didn’t give him any signs that you found him less attractive with a dad-body. His belly was soft, but you liked that, liked it better than when he had trained regularly. His soft belly paired with his soft chest made the perfect pillow for your body to rest on.

Adam mumbled something about how it wasn’t your deal what he decided to cover up and what he put on display for you. You turned around to look at the brunette properly, “Adam, let me be fucking serious about this,” the first man raised an eyebrow at you as you spoke those words, he wasn’t quite sure where this conversation would lead to, but he knew he didn’t want to go down that alley. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, okay?” And while he desperately wanted to believe you, something told him you were lying, because how could an angel as divine as you love someone as lazy as him? He did let himself go, he stopped working out years ago and it showed. Though he had thought no one had noticed since you never said anything about it. But the stranger that had noticed had shown him that people did notice and if a stranger were to notice, you sure as fuck did too. He watched you as you stepped up to him, you gently nudged his wings out of the way and while Adam wanted to argue, wanted to bitch at you for doing so, your touch on his body silenced him. “Adam,” oh how the first man adored the way you said his name, so soft yet serious, so demanding, like a command and at the same time it sounded like a one word poetry that fell from your lips. “I’m being serious,” you continued and for the first time ever since the first man had stripped his eyes met yours. Discomfort was visible in them and you were sure you also found insecurity hidden in their depths. “Fuck that bitch who told you you let yourself go,” you stepped aside so that the brunette could see himself in the huge mirror that hung above the bathroom sink, your naked body next to his made him feel a little more comfortable. “That cunt’s a bastard for making you feel that way because you look absolutely breathtaking, baby, why can’t you see that?”

Adam didn’t know, all he saw when he stared at his reflection was that lazy giant who was everything but attractive, his body wasn’t as fit as it used to be and he knew it would be so easy to change but he simply had no motivation to do so. “You’re fucking mine,” you hummed as you wrapped your arm around his waist and your wing came up to gently rest against his back, to offer him comfort. Adam loved the way your feathers looked against his skin. “All of this,” you placed a gentle kiss onto his right peck, then kissed his left pack before you continued to speak, “Is mine. And I fucking own it with so much pride, baby.”

The brunette’s curios eyes watched as you kissed his chest, down over his belly and back up to his collar bones, “I fucking love the way your body looks and I will always love it, no matter if you to keep the dad body or if you make up your mind to get fit again. I’ll always adore you, I’ll always adore what’s mine.” Adam shot you a weak smile, he believed you. For now. He knew nothing was granted, so maybe one day you’ll make up your mind and decide that what you just said was bullshit, but for now he trusted your words. It made him feel a little better knowing you liked his body the way it looked. It didn’t make him like his form himself, but it lifted some of the weight off his shoulders.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you