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vodika-vibes · 2 months

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I have another Jango x female reader smut scenario idea~ The reader regularly hires Jango for jobs, there's mutual attraction between them; strong enough for Jango to suavely suggest waving his fee in exchange for her sharing his bed, while she is tempted, she always refuses as it doesn't feel right to not pay him,or to sleep with a client, no matter how attracted she is. He's always gracious and somewhat amused by her refusal, but he always puts the same offer on the table. Because he knows she feels the same and wants him just as much too. Then one job almost goes completely sideways, Jango was completely fine and handled the situation wonderfully, but she realizes she could've lost him forever and throws caution to the wind, practically jumping him with a kiss when he lands, pushing him down onto the bed on his ship and they have the most mind blowing sex they have ever had.

Just Once More

Summary: Jango Fett impresses you, as a man and as a bounty hunter. But, as much as you might want to, you’ve never taken him up on his offer to join him in his bed. Well, not yet, at least.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 1905

Warnings: Smut

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I hope this is close to what you had in mind. It turns out that I had more plot than smut for this story, so I might, possibly, continue this. Maybe.

The holo flickers to life in front of you, and a bright smile crosses your face. Jango always answers holos from you, no matter what he might be doing. “Jango,” You greet him with a fond smile.

“Cyare,” The familiar pet name falls from his lips with ease, and you know enough Mando’a to know that it’s a very affectionate pet name, though you can’t remember exactly what it means. “Are you calling to say that you changed your mind about my offer?”

His voice is light, and conversational, and you can’t help but to lean back in your chair and release a quiet laugh, “Not yet.” It looks like he just stepped out of the fresher, as he’s shirtless and the bottoms of his undersuit are hanging low on his hips.

“How many more times am I going to have to make the offer before you take me up on it?”

You pull your gaze from his chest, a small grin playing on your lips, “Just once more, as ever.”

He chuckles lowly, and you release a silent sigh, he really has no business being as attractive as he is. If only you had met him in, literally, any other way other than by hiring him. Then you wouldn’t have a problem accepting his offer to join him in his bed.

“I have a job for you, if you’re interested.” You offer as you pull yourself out of your, increasingly salacious, fantasies about the man on the other end of the call.

“You do send me to the most interesting places,” Jango replies thoughtfully, “Sadly, I’m on a job already.”

Your face falls, disappointing, but not unsurprising. He is the best, after all. “I see. Well, if you’re too busy, you’re too busy. I’ll comm someone else-”

“Wait, hold on.” Jango interrupts, “What’s the job?’

You glance at him, “Well, you remember the fiasco on Rishi several months back?”

“Of course I do.”

“Right, well this is a continuation of that.”

Jango frowns, “I thought I cleaned that mess up.”

You hold your hands out to the side, “So did I, but I got an incredibly hostile message from the person who runs that basically ordering me to Ord Mantell to deal with this-”

“You’re not going, are you?”

“Do I look that dumb to you?” There’s an amused smile on your lips, “No, Jango, I know a trap when I hear one. But-”

“But-?”

You hesitate, and then sigh, “Since I ignored that message it’s started to feel like I’m being followed.”

Jango’s frown deepens, “You said Ord Mantell?”

“Yeah. On one of the islands.” You rub your nose with the palm of your hand, a nervous habit from your childhood that’s reared its ugly head due to the situation you’re in, “I know you already have a job, Jango, I’ll pay triple your regular rate…just…I trust you the most.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jango replies, “No charge.”

“Jango-”

“Someone’s threatening you, cyar’ika. No charge.” Jango interrupts, and then he glances to the side, and his lips twist, “This Tyrannous guy will just have to find another bounty hunter to do his job.”

You tilt your head, “That’s quite a name.”

“Tell me about it.” You hear the sound of Jango’s fingers tapping against metal, “I’m coming to you. We’ll go down to Ord Mantell together, but you’ll stay on the ship while I deal with this situation.”

All of the tension drains from your body, “Thank you, Jango.”

“Thank me when you’re safe, cyar’ika, not a moment sooner.”

Ord Mantell is a nice planet.

Or it would be if it wasn’t home to con artists, smugglers, and criminals of every background. Oh sure, the Republic makes a good showing of having soldiers garrisoned here, but all that happens is that the soldiers become smugglers, or con artists, or criminals.

Jango leans over the back of your seat as you avoid the major city and head for one of the small islands. The one located in the message you were sent all those months ago.

“That must be it,” Jango notes, his eyes narrowing at the warehouse just barely visible though the viewport.

“I’m not sure how comfortable I am bringing the Orphan in close to that building.” You admit as you tilt your head to look at him, “Options?”

He rubs his gloved knuckles against the back of your neck, the action soothing to you, even if he didn’t mean it that way. “What about over there, in that clearing?” Jango asks, “The Orphan isn’t that big, after all.”

“Mm, that should be fine.” You finally say after you eye the clearing critically. You bring your ship over and set her down in the middle of the clearing, and then turn in your chair to look at Jango.

“Alright, stay on the ship.” He says, as he pulls his helmet on, his voice distorting halfway through his sentence. “Lock it up tight behind me.”

“You think someone will come and attack me?” You ask, your brow furrowing in anxiety.

Jango reaches out and smoothes the line off your brow, “I’m not going to let that happen.” He sounds so sure, so confident, that the anxiety fades away as though it never existed in the first place.

You follow him over to the door, and press the button to allow it to slide open, the stairs lowering as it does so, and you favor him with a small smile, “Happy hunting, Jango.”

He tilts his helmet towards you as he descends the stairs, “Remember, cyar’ika, lock up behind me.”

“Got it.” As soon as he’s on the ground, you press the button to recall the stairs, and you watch as he vanishes into the forest, as the door slides shut and locks. And then you head back into your cockpit and prop your feet up on the console and wait.

Forty-five minutes later, you yelp as your ship is rocked by an explosion. And, for a moment, you think that someone shot at your ship. And then you see that the warehouse, barely visible in the distance, is now burning, and your heart drops into your stomach.

You scramble out of your seat and over to the door, your hand hovering over the door panel, before you curl your hand into a fist and forcibly drop it to your side.

Jango said leave the door shut and locked.

He’s fine, you’re sure. He has to be fine.

Fifteen minutes later, your comm chimes as a familiar comm code slides across the screen, and you smack the answer button hard enough that you’re worried that you’ll break the small device, “Jango?”

“Yeah. Problem solved.” You hear the sound of movement, “I’m on my way back to the ship right now.”

“Are you…what happened? The warehouse blew up!”

“Yeah, it was a trap. I decided to trigger it.”

“You decided-” You trail off, and exhale slowly, “Please don’t ever do that again, I thought you were dead.”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “Worried, cyar’ika?”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice is much softer, “I’ll be back in a bit. Promise.” And then the connection cuts.

This time, when you head to the door you don’t hesitate to unlock and open it. And then you descend the stairs and settle on the bottom step and wait, your mind racing.

You could have lost him.

He could have been killed, because of you.

All of a sudden, all of your worries and hesitations about a relationship, or whatever, with Jango seem much less important.

You lift your head when you hear movement from the forest, and Jango steps out from between several massive bushes. He pauses when he sees you, and then tugs his helmet off.

“That’s not on the ship, cyar’ika.” He chides as he heads towards you.

You scramble to your feet and cross the clearing to him, flinging your arms around his neck as you tackle him. Jango’s helmet falls from his fingers as he’s forced to catch you.

You don’t say anything to his comment, though, as you crash your lips against his. And Jango responds immediately, his arms tightening around you as he slides his tongue against the seam of your lips, and then against your tongue as you part your lips for him.

He breaks the kiss before you do, delight sparkling in those pretty brown eyes of his, “So, all I had to do to get you to jump me is almost die?” Jango asks breathlessly.

“Not funny,” You mumble.

“Not trying to be,” His lips capture yours again, and this time he carries you towards your ship, his hands sliding under your clothing as he kisses you. And then a breathless curse falls from his lips as he pins you against the cool metal of your ship.

“Get down, cyare.” Jango rasps against your lips, and you whine in response.

“Jango-”

“I’m not fucking you for the first time against your ship,” He says against your lips, “You deserve a bed.”

You shiver, but slowly drop your legs to the ground, and Jango takes a step away from you. You fight the urge to step back into his personal space, and instead climb the stairs until you’re back on the ship.

Jango crowds into your personal space as soon as the door shuts, his nimble fingers popping the seals on his armor and dropping the metal to the floor. The second he's not wearing his armor, he’s pressed back against you, his hands gliding down your body while his lips trail down your throat.

“You left your helmet-” You gasp out as he walks you backwards to your bunk.

“It’ll hold.” Jango replies as he rips your shirt off and tosses it to the side, before moving his hands to your hips and pushing your pants down your legs. You kick them over your feet and to the side, just as Jango lowers you to the mattress. “Kriff,” He mumbles as he hastily removes his own clothing and climbs over you, “Wanted you for months. Can’t believe you made me wait-”

You lean up and pull him down into a deep kiss, no longer having the patience for him to keep talking.

He chuckles into the kiss and moves so that he’s kneeling between your legs. “Wrap your legs around me, cyar’ika.” Jango orders, a pleased groan falling from him as you immediately move to obey him. “Gonna make you feel so good,” He breathes out as he grinds his hard length against you, “Going to make you mine, cyar’ika.”

“Please-”

Jango slides his hands down your arms, and catches your hands, before pinning them to the bed next to your head and threading your fingers with his. And then, and only then, does he slowly push in you.

“Keep your eyes on my, cyare,” He murmurs, when it looks like your eyes are going to shut with your pleasure, “Keep looking at me.”

You squeeze his hands, “I will.”

And then Jango starts a painfully slow pace, pulling nearly all the way out, before easing his way back in, making sure that you can feel every single movement. “You’re mine,” He breathes, “All mine. No one else will ever have you.”

His grip tightens around your hands, and you squeeze back reassuringly, “Yours.” You agree through a breathless moan. “All yours.”

#star wars #star wars legends #jango fett x reader #jango x reader #18+ fic #nsft #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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thefact0rygirl · 1 year

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thefact0rygirl's jango fett masterlist

MAIN MASTERLIST 🪐 AO3 🪐 TAGLIST

Both my blog and masterlist are NSFW/Explicit 18+. Minors do not interact.

one shots

Scholarly Discussions

headcanons

Jango's wife is significantly taller than him

drabbles

DRABBLE REQUESTS MASTERLIST ⚡️

“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.”

“It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.”

#jango fett x reader #jango fett x you #jango fett x y/n #jango fett x fem!reader #jango fett f!reader #jango fett fanfiction #jango fett fanfic #star wars fanfic #jango fett headcanon #jango fett drabble #nsfios #vee writes #vee's masterlist

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daisies-daydreams · 2 months

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Hey, love!

I am here to request a sex pollen story with our lovely Jango Fett! I would love some build-up to the actual act? Maybe like a job gone sideways or maybe a short stop on a planet leads to a situation or maybe whatever you come up with!

Well, whatever you decide it will be good!

Much love,

Maggie

A Small Favor (Jango Fett x F!Reader)

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader Category: Smut (with a hint of angst) Warnings: Depictions Blood/Wounds, Aphrodisiacs/Sex Pollen, Consensual Sex, Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Dirty Talk, Nipple Play, Squirting, Cowgirl Position, Missionary Position, Multiple Creampies, Multiple Orgasms, Swearing, Mentions of Infertility Word Count: 4.1k+ A/N: Hello dear! Thank you so much for your fun request (we both know I'm a sucker for sex pollen fics lol). Also Lucas allegedly said that underwear doesn't exist in space, so I had to...improvise. :| I hope you enjoy!

This was not how today was supposed to go.

What started as a mission you had been planning with another bounty hunter for weeks has turned into a complete disaster. A streak of lightning cracked over the lush Onderonian jungle as you and your partner, Jango Fett, quietly listened for the gut-wrenching hiss of the pack of Gutkurrs that were stalking you. You tried to steady your breathing as your heart pounded in your ears, the sound of heavy rain and rumbling thunder doing little to assist you in keeping a sharp ear.

Jango grunted as he tensed beside you; the prominent, red gash in his calf making you frown. You bit the inside of your cheek as you kept his arm over your shoulder.

"Come on, Fett. We only have a bit more to go," you tried to quietly reassure him. Your eyes widened when you heard the sound of plants rustling around you as one of the Gutkurrs release a bellowing roar that echoed through the dense, dark forest. You glanced over at the rugged Mandalorian as he wheezed.

“Har’chaak,” the bounty hunter cursed beneath his drenched helmet [damn it]. You remained as quiet as possible as the sound of shuffling grew closer. You shoved the both of you as much as you could beneath the ledge as the carnivores sniffed the air. You felt your heart drop into your stomach as a bright bolt of lightning illuminated their spiny shadows across the landscape in front of you. You leaned against Jango's helmet when a loud crack of thunder rolled over the forest.

"Are you sure your jetpack is damaged?" you asked. You remained quiet as the thunder dissipated, the clicking of the Gutkurr's claws soon replacing the rancorous sound. Jango slowly nodded his head. You sighed as your heart raced even faster when you saw a few streams of mud cascade over the edge above you. You held your gloved hand over your mouth, your body stiff as the insect-like creatures rumbled lowly.

Your eyes darted around the forest as lighting illuminated the lush greenery. Your eyes landed on the familiar glint of Slave I's energy-shield shining past a thick patch of magenta flowers. A tiny pulse of hope shot through your heart as an idea popped into your head.

"Jango," you whispered loudly. The man grunted while the beasts above you skittered about, dragging their sharp, raptorial legs along the muddy ground with impatience. You pulled a flare from your pack, your eyes shining with anticipation as your breathing grew ragged. The other bounty hunter simply gave a short nod, steadying himself against you as you prepared the flare.

You took a deep breath before you ever so slightly stuck your arm out from beneath the edge. The beasts roared and hissed as a streak of red light flashed across the sky, their footsteps rumbling against the soggy ground as the two of you dashed in the opposite direction. You squinted your eyes as you rushed through the patch of magenta flora resting beneath the thick midstory of the jungle.

Your eyes widened when a cloud of yellow dust unexpectedly sprayed in your face. You felt like someone just punched you in the stomach as you nearly doubled over, Jango slipping away from your grasp before you quickly caught him in your arms. He grunted as if he were trying to suppress a cough while his body tensed in your grasp.

You whipped your head up when a lone Gutkurr suddenly rumbled nearby, the reds of its eyes glowing in the light of the storm.

"Run!" you screamed as you tried to steady him against your side. Jango hobbled alongside you as you desperately ran towards the ship sitting in the thick field before you. Your heart raced as the creature's footsteps grew louder as it dragged it's long raptorial legs along the ground. You nearly slipped on a slick patch of mud before Jango grabbed and threw you forward. The two of you panted as he opened the hatch to his ship with the gauntlet on his wrist. Your lungs burned as you wrapped your hand around his wrist and stomped through the tall grass.

Your heart dropped when the Gutkurr roared menacingly as it launched itself forward and opened its wide, dark maw. Time slowed to a stop as you braced yourself to be bitten in half by its razor-sharp teeth...only to open your eyes when you heard the loud sound of a blaster echo through the field. You gasped when the beast fell in front of you with a pitiful groan, Jango heaving as his hand clumsily fell back to his side. You snapped your head up when you heard the rest of the pack roar nearby.

"Hurry!" you whispered loudly as you helped Jango into the hangar. Your heart nearly stopped when you saw a collection of red eyes glint on the outskirts of the field as the door slowly began to close. You pounded your hand against the button inside, praying it would make it go faster as the carnivores rushed towards Slave I.

You flinched and nearly stumbled back when the door finally locked shut just as the creatures surrounded the attack craft. Your chset rose and fell as you ran a hand through your hair, your mind still racing as your heart pounded wildly. You gasped and braced yourself against the wall as the ship began to rock back and forth, the muffled hissing of the Gutkurrs sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyebrows shot up when the lights suddenly went out, leaving you and Jango in dim lighting as a menacing red glowed through the hangar. The other bounty hunter clenched his fists.

"Dank-" You flinched when the ship shook violently, followed by the frustrated grunts and shrieking of the insect-like carnivores. Jango grunted as he leaned against the wall, the gash in his leg now gushing with blood as he heaved.

You rushed to his side as the emergency lights of his ship flickered each time one of the Gutkurr's slammed their armored bodies against the sides of Slave I. Jango tensed as you gently laid a hand on his lower back, your eyes glowing with softness as you parted your lips.

"Where's the medkit?" you asked, your chest quickly rising and falling as adrenaline coursed through your veins. Jango's shoulders slumped as he tilted his head towards the far left side of the hangar. Your heart pounded in your ears as the ship continued to shake. You frowned as you guided your partner over to an empty seat, his grunts doing little to ease your troubled mind. A trail of blood followed his injured leg as you sat him down as gently as you could.

You furrowed your brows when you laid eyes on his ripped pants, your cheeks glowing with heat as the room grew stuffy in a matter of seconds. You flicked your eyes back up to the emotionless visor of his helmet as you swallowed thickly.

"Okay, um..." your voice trailed off as you got on your knees, your hands hesitantly sliding up to Jango's belt before he grabbed your wrists.

"What do you think you're doing?" the rasped, his breathing ragged as he balled his hands around your wrists. You nervously glanced up at his face as you squeezed your thighs together; the unbearable tension inside you only growing stronger as he touched you.

"I-I need to take off your pants to treat your wound," you said with a shaky voice as goosebumps broke out across your body. You winced as the ship shook again, the lights flickering violently as the creatures dragged their limbs and scrambled alongside the sides of his ship. You tried to take a deep breath as Jango slumped in his seat.

"Fine," he huffed and clumsily unbuckled his belt. Oh, Maker. Your throat grew tight as images of him slamming his cock deep inside your dripping, needy cunt flooded your mind. You shook your head and sucked in a sharp breath as you helped him out of his pants, the fabric falling to the floor and revealing a thin, dark one-piece clinging to his tan skin. You quickly shifted your gaze when your eyes lingered on the outline of his cock straining against his thin body suit.

"Uh...alright," you blinked several times as you desperately tried to suppress the urge to climb onto his lap and ride him until he-

"Just take them off...whatever it takes to patch me up," Jango breathed as he leaned back in the chair and yanked off his helmet. Your eyes widened as you gazed upon his rugged, scarred face. His thick, dark hair clung to his head as he sighed heavily.

You bit your lip as the fabric of your clothes rubbed against your sensitive nipples and slick folds as you adjusted yourself in front of him. Sounds of clanging Beskar plates and shifting fabric echoed inside the hangar as the noises outside began to grow faint. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat as your mind grew hazy at the sight of his thick, heavy cock springing free from the confines of his black one-piece. Your mouth watered as it slapped against the dip of his abs, a large pearl of precum smearing across his sweat-coated skin as he sucked in a sharp breath and shifted in his seat.

You were pulled back to reality when you heard him grunt with pain (or what you assumed to be pain...) and tense in the chair.

"Right!" you said with a strained voice as you rushed over to the medkit hanging on the wall. Your chest grew tight as a heavy wave of arousal suddenly washed over you, the space between your legs growing unbearably hot as you caught your breath.

You shook your head violently before rushing back over, your body shivering with arousal as you threw the kit opened and grabbed a large, clean gauze. Jango hissed and clawed his fingers against the arms of his seat as you wrapped your hands around his gash, putting as much pressure as you could onto the deep wound.

Your walls pulsed when you saw his cock twitch in front of your face, the large vein on the underside of his thick shaft making you wonder what it would feel like if-

"I think you can start cleaning it out now," Jango rasped with a shallow breath. You blinked and looked down at your hands, the bleeding having already slowed down enough for you to start sterilizing the gash. You swallowed and gave him a short nod before taking off your gloves. You felt him slightly shiver while you gently cleaned the wound, as if every lingering touch of your fingers made him sink further into a trance. The bubbling heat inside your core only intensified as you watched the thick bead of precum leak from his slit and down his shaft.

You feared Jango judging you for staring so much...only to see him tilting his head back as he breathed in short, shallow pants. Everything around you seemed to fade away as your core ached with a primal desire - you even nearly missed as you used the field cauterizer to close his gaping wound. Your vision grew blurry as you clumsily put the medical supplies away and sterilized your hands...only to feet Jango's warm palms slide over your shoulders.

"Wait..." he swallowed thickly as a deep red hue filled his sharp cheeks. Your eyes trailed down his rugged chest and lean stomach before landing on his girthy length again. It stood up straight and twitched beneath your hungry gaze as he ever so slightly shifted his hips forward. You whined as he tightened his grip around your shoulders, his dark pupils blown wide as he breathed heavily.

"I need...I need you," he muttered lowly. A bolt of pleasure struck through your core as your eyes widened. You gasped when he pulled you onto his lap, your thighs draped over his as he gripped your waist. You mewled as your breasts rubbed against his chest, your clothed pussy hovering over his weeping cock as he bared his teeth over your pulse.

"I don't know what's come over me...but I just...I need you," his voice dropped several octaves as he growled against your neck. You moaned and arched your back as he slipped his fingers beneath the band of your soaked, muddied pants. You felt him clench his jaw against your cheek as he struggled to contain himself. You gulped and parted your lips.

"Jango...I need you to-" that was enough for him to literally rip your pants off of your legs. Your jaw dropped as your clothes fell into tatters onto the dimly lit floor before he firmly tugged you forward. You ducked your head into his shoulder and screamed when he shoved you down on his girth in one swift, fluid motion.

Your eyes rolled back as his cock stretched your drenched pussy wide open, your cunt already slick and deep as his thick length spread your gummy walls. You swallowed as your cunt fluttered around his shaft as he began to thrust his dick into your burning sex.

“Oh, M-Maker Jango!” you screamed as he bounced you on his cock, your walls squeezing him tightly as your cunt squelched lewdly with every feral thrust of his hips.

"O-Osik," he hissed through gritted teeth as your pussy swallowed his dick whole each time your ass came back down and slapped against his taut, muscular thighs [shit]. You threw your head back as the thick tip of his member railed into your soft, oversensitive g-spot, each tender graze leaving your legs shaking and cunt aching for more.

"Jango," you slurred as your forehead fell against his, your warm breaths mingling while you tried to match his relentless pace. The hangar was flooded with sounds of skin wetly slapping against skin mixed with your combined grunts and moans.

Your eyes shot open when he quickly shoved his lips against yours, your wet tongues quickly finding each other in a sloppy, passionate dance as he pounded into you. You gasped for air when the two of you parted, your lips glossed over with your combined spit as he groaned.

"I want to fill you so badly," Jango growled into your ear as his hands slid down to tenderly squeeze your ass. Your moan rattled through the dark room as the head of his cock slammed against the soft, gummy plug to your womb. "Stuff you with my seed - over...and over..." his breath hitched as your walls pulsed around his veiny shaft. True euphoria pumped through your veins as your core tightened, squeezing his dick in a wet, vice grip as his thrusts began to falter. You whined as a deep, low rumble rose from his scarred chest.

"Yes, yes!" you screamed as your vision suddenly flooded with white. Your body tensed in Jango's hold as your cunt gushed with your warm juices. You babbled and squirmed on his lap as you drenched his inner thighs with your thick cream. Your body trembled as your jaw remained slack, your vision blurred with hot tears of pure bliss. Your body grew limp as your walls contracted deliciously, your mind dizzy and hazy with pleasure as he continued to fuck into your raw, puffy cunt.

You yelped when he released a gutteral groan, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass as his cock twitched deep inside your tight canal.

"Take me - take all of me," Jango snarled as he slammed you down to the hilt, his thick brows furrowed as his cock throbbed against your cervix. You gasped as he soaked your walls with thick ropes of his heavy, warm cum.

"J-Jango," you said with a hoarse whisper as your greedy pussy drank every drop he shot into your tight walls. You whined as his lips brushed against your pulse, his hot breath fanning over your neck as his grip on your hips loosened.

You blinked away the tears of bliss that clouded your vision, the heat within you still lingering as you felt a few loose drops of his cum leak out of your stretched seam and stain your soft, inner thighs. You shot your head up when the regular lights suddenly flickered on, the sound of the storm and the creatures previously lurking outside completely dissipated.

"Looks like the ship's working again," you beamed with a lighter feeling in your chest. Your smile fell when you saw the lingering hunger remaining in his eyes as his cock remained hard within your raw sex. "Jango?" you murmured. You yelped when he rose to his feet, the room spinning around you as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and hooked your arms over his thick neck.

"I'm not finished yet," the dark-haired man rumbled lowly, his face as stoic as ever as he climbed towards his bunk. "It's too much...too much-" the bounty hunter couldn't even finish his sentence as he swallowed thickly. You keened as his cock gently grinded inside your tight heat every time he ascended the ladder to his chambers. The bunk sliding-shutter was pulled down, allowing the two of you some privacy from the wildlife of Onderon as Jango stepped over to his bed.

Your heart wildly beat against your sternum as Jango laid you down on your back, his muscular form looming over you as his cock remained stuffed half-way inside your slick cunt. He gazed directly into your eyes as he wasted no time and began to rock his hips forward, his thrusts more steady and controlled than before as he rested his toned arms on either side of your flushed face. You threw your head back as every nerve ending in your body lit up with pleasure; the feeling of his heavy shaft dragging along your plush walls making your mouth water and toes curl.

"You're so tight, an'edee," Jango grunted as his brows furrowed with pleasure [all bite]. You had no time to ask what he meant in his native tongue before he started to pick up the pace, his eyes lit with a primal desire as he watched your body bounce with each swift snap of his hips.

You gasped and arched your back as a shiver of arousal crept down your spine, your pussy squelching lewdly with your combined juices each time he pushed his cock back inside your hole. A sharp cry fell from your lips as he perfectly hit your g-spot with a few quick thrusts.

"Y-Yes! Right there!" you keened as your legs shook around his waist. You heard Jango grip the sheets beside your head as he repeated the hypnotic motion with ease, your cunt clamping down on his cock as you moaned softly. The man above you grunted as you rested your hands on his upper back, your nails slightly sinking into his muscles as you writhed with pleasure.

"Haar'chak...I need to make you mine," the bounty hunter rumbled against your skin [Damn it]. You gasped when he unbuckled the latches of your overcoat, his hands making quick work of discarding all of the clothes from your upper body and tossing them aside. You flushed as his eyes locked on your bouncing breasts, his lips slightly parted before he dipped down and latched onto one of your pebbling nipples.

"Oh, Jango!" you cried and arched into his touch as the sounds of your hips slapping against each other grew louder inside the confined space of his bunk.

Your pussy pulsed as the Mandalorian puckered his lips around your bud before gently tugging at it between his teeth. You slid your hands up and slipped your fingers through his thick, black locks as he lavished your sensitive breast. You twitched when he moaned against your areola, the vibrations causing a little more of your warm arousal to smear along his stiff, swollen cock.

"You feel so, so good - I swear I could stay inside you forever," Jango murmured against your plush tit before quickly turning his attention to your other one. Your eyes widened as he swirled his tongue around your neglected nipple, one of his hands slipping down and pinching your other bud between his thick, calloused fingers.

You felt yourself careening closer to the edge of your release with every swipe of his tongue and push of his hips.

"J-Jango, so close," you whined and desperately clenched your walls around his dick, begging for him to stuff you with another heavy load of his seed. You watched as his Adam's apple bobbed, beads of sweat forming on his temples as he filled you over and over with his hard cock. You swore you saw stars in your vision when he dipped a pair of his fingers down and began to rub sloppy circles around your bundle of nerves.

"Cum for me, mesh'la. Let me feel you squeeze this cock before I fill you again," he snarled as he wildly plunged his dick within your puffy, sensitive walls [beautiful]. You released a silent scream as he pressed his thumb down on your clit, a shockwave of euphoria bursting through your core as you squirted all over his lower stomach.

"Yes," Jango groaned as your pussy sucked him in, his breathing growing more ragged while you shattered into a million pieces beneath him. You wailed and babbled his name as your cunt completely soaked the sheets below you, the sounds of his cock sliding into your slick pussy reverberating inside the small bunk.

"Oh, Maker," you managed to squeak out of your tight throat as your body shivered with the aftershocks of your release. Jango gritted his teeth as he wrapped his hands around your waist, his grunts filling your ears along with the sound of his heavy balls wetly slapping against your juicy slit.

"(Y/N)..." the dark-haired man roared as he rested his forehead against your own.

You gasped as his cock stiffened between your creamy walls, his cock buried down to the hilt as the intoxicating feeling of his cum filling you until it burst from the tight space where your sexes were snugly joined. You whined his name as he squeezed your tender love handles, his face contorted with pleasure as he remained tense against your sweaty body. You both released a shaky sigh as he spilled one more thick string of cum inside your rawly fucked cunt.

You closed your eyes as you caught your breath, your body coated with a thin sheen of sweat as you basked in the afterglow. The Mandalorian sighed as he slowly pulled out of you, his softening cock hanging between his legs as he adjusted himself in the small bed. Your bodies were practically pressed chest to chest as he gazed into your eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked between heavy breaths as he knitted his brows. Your heart skipped a beat at his gentle words before you gave a slow, lazy nod.

"Yes...just c-catching my breath," you sighed. Jango grunted as his body seemed to relax against the warmth of your own. A question began to gnaw at your mind, causing your eyes to widen a little.

"Jango, will I get...you know..." you shifted your gaze as heat rose to your cheeks. You've thought about having a child from time to time...but with your current line of work, it's now nothing more than a passing daydream. His dark brown eyes held a rare look of longing as he tightly gripped the sheets.

"No," he muttered. "I...I can't have any younglings of my own," Jango hesitantly continued, his voice now slightly cold as he stared between your bodies. You frowned as your heart sank into your stomach.

"Oh," you replied before glancing away. A heavy silence seeped between the two of you before he sighed heavily.

"It's alright, though. I actually have an opportunity to-" Jango paused, his face growing hard as he pursed his lips. "Well, let's just say I'm able to...adopt one," the bounty hunter chuckled softly. You raised a brow and tilted your head curiously. You chose not to pry and instead remained quiet, the sound of the ship's tech humming filling the space between the two of you. You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to think of something to say after a long period of silence.

"I think that you'll be a wonderful father, Jango," you said with a gentle grin. Jango blinked, his eyes softening as a genuine smile stretched across his rugged, worn features.

"Thank you...mesh’la," the mercenary murmured gently with a faint shine in his eyes.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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#jango fett #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #star wars fic #smut #jango fett x reader #jango fett x fem!reader #jango fett x y/n #jango fett x you #star wars fanfic

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imarvelatthestars · 5 months

Text

Cyare

Pairings: Sister x f!Reader, ft. Cody

Warnings: reader sticks her foot in her mouth, but it's awkwardly endearing; fluff + flirting

Notes: For those who don't know, Sister is a clone from the novels Queen's Hope & Brotherhood. I've been wanting to write for her for a while and this turned into the perfect opportunity!

Coruscant is the same as it always is, as is 79's - crowded, dirty, bright, a metallic mess built atop a subtle, hidden beauty. Sister sips at her drink, some bitter liquor that takes the edge off, and she sighs. She watches you flit shyly about at the fringes of the dance floor, watches the streaks of neon light on your skin as you bob your head to the music, and she feels her entire body go white hot and ice cold all at once.

An elbow in her ribs has her blinking back to the present, only to find that the Commander is watching her with an entirely too pleased glint in his eyes. Fierfek.

"We still have another day of shore leave," he says.

She could deny it. He's being vague enough that she could pass off the remark as anything other than what it actually is, but despite being embarrassed at getting caught staring, despite the flutter-bys in her stomach that start up any time she considers even approaching you, she finds that there's a part of her that doesn't want to shrug Cody's remark or its implication aside.

She opts for a single nod. An acknowledgement, an understanding, but nothing that will make her have to open her mouth. Force only knows what would come out.

Sparks and Raptor come bounding up then. Their drinks are spilling all over the place and Sparks is laughing so hard he's crying. They're going on about some stupid joke the pretty Chalactan bartender made and Cody's rolling his eyes and all that Sister can do is take another sip of her drink. She doesn't look in your direction again, she doesn't think about what it might be like to dance with you or to hold your hand, and she definitely doesn't think about your smile.

Or perhaps that beauty she always manages to seek out on her least favorite planet is just you.

Clones are, by default, all alike. That's kind of the whole point of them. But every clone you've ever met has made an effort to make himself different from his brothers - a different hairstyle or color, no tattoos, all tattoos, piercings, scars, armor paint, all of the above, sometimes none if they're shinies. It's incredible how they've crafted their own culture out of whispers of Mandalorian tradition like their progenitor before them and nods to the Jedi Order, to Coruscanti or Ryloth or Kel Dorin cultures that reflect their generals.

All two years of this war so far, though, and you've never seen a clone like her. Her. She's the only female clone you've ever met. Well, not met. Noticed. You noticed her the first time she came into 79's a few weeks back. It would be hard not to. She's tall and broad shouldered like her brothers, there's a thickness to her arms and thighs that screams about the type of fit, competent soldier she is. Her skin glows under 79's fluorescents, her teeth are brilliantly white when she smiles, but the thing that really gets you like, every time, is her hair.

You've gotten lost in glimpses of it too many times to count. When she first came in, her hair was braided tight against her scalp and her armor had a few streaks of blue and pink. Now, though, the braids are long gone. She's let her hair down from its bun and is - oh kriff, yeah she's shaking her hair out and it should not be giving you this many flutter-bys, yet here you are.

She's beautiful. Does she know? Is she aware of how stunning she is? Something about the sternness of her jawline, the strong angle of her nose, the swell of her shoulder muscles as they smooth out above her collarbones, right where her hair rests in large, frizzed curls. Fucking Maker, she makes you nervous. The fact that she gets her genes from Jango freaking Fett just makes you even more of a flustered disaster.

"You look lost."

The voice that startles you from your stupor belongs to the commander of the 212th himself, Cody. He's professional, but has been friendlier toward you of late, offering snippets of conversation when he comes to request refills for himself or his men. And woman, as the case may be.

You chuckle to yourself as you take the glass he offers you and start to refill it with liquor. "Promise I'm not," you say. "'m right where I'm supposed to be, aren't I?"

Cody nods, but his expression is thoughtful, slightly humored. "You're behind the bar, alright, but you're not here." His forearms brace against the lip of the bar as he leans in a bit, and it's the closest the commander's ever been to you since you first started working here. You almost wonder if this is his way of flirting with you. It's not such an awful idea, although it's tiresome in this environment. "Somethin' on your mind?"

You top off his glass and place it near one wrist, not too close to the bar's edge. "What makes you say that?" you ask with a too-sweet voice and a well-practiced smile. You make an effort not to look in the direction you had been before Cody approached you, the direction of his sister, the one clone in the entire galaxy who's managed to catch your eye more than any other.

He takes a sip, hardly wincing at the sharp bite of the alcohol when it hits his throat. "She likes you, y'know."

And it's a good thing you're not allowed to drink on the job because if you had, you'd be spraying it all over Cody's chest plate now. "What?!" you sputter as you choke on your saliva. It hits you a second later to attempt plausible deniability, though you know that ship has long since sailed. "What, um, what are you... talking about?"

The laugh he gives you in response is enough to make your face burn. "She's one o' the good ones. And I don't say that lightly. Most of these troopers are di'kute." And he emphasizes this with a thumb tossed over his shoulder and a not-so-subtle roll of his eyes. But then he takes another drink, pushes himself off the bar, and nods politely at you as if he hadn't just uncovered your secret crush and brought the entire galaxy down atop your head at the same time. "See y' around, civvy."

You're a fool, and you know you shouldn't seek her out when her commander leaves, but you do it anyway. The purple, pink, and orange paint job makes it easy. She's as beautiful as ever, nursing her drink with something of a panicked glimmer in her eyes, but there's something more there, too. It's difficult to make out in the dim lighting that 79's provides, but you can see it better when she tilts her head and looks at you properly. You'd almost call it hope.

It's your job as a bartender to be aware of your surroundings. Fights break out easily when the building is packed full of boozed up soldiers and their dates. So of course you notice that one trooper in particular lingers this night. She stays long after her brothers and higher ranking officers have left, long after the main buzz sustaining the bar mellows into something much more tame and the night grows late.

You try not to think too much about it. Lots of troopers stay late, lots of troopers stay after their companions have gone. But this time is different because it's her and you want it to be different, you want it to mean something. And you don't even know her name. It would be laughable if it wasn't so pathetic.

So imagine your surprise when your shift ends and your replacement slips into place behind the bar, when you've grabbed your bag from the staff room and are about to head out, when the very trooper you've been thinking of the entire night approaches you. She's much taller up close than you'd first thought. Perhaps you'd assumed she'd be shorter than the others, seeing as human women are often shorter than human men in your experience. Or perhaps you'd never really thought too much about it. Either way, her height paired with the broad span of her shoulders and the way the lights catch her eyes when she smiles at you all leads you to the conclusion that you're done for already.

"Hello." She has a nice, rumbly voice that's a bit like Cody's, but different somehow. A smoky alto that makes your heart feel weird.

You swallow your nerves as you resettle the strap of your bag over your shoulder. "Hi." You're not normally this timid, at least not on the job, but she makes you feel so many things that you can hardly think.

She shifts on her feet a bit, one hand rubbing anxiously at the plastoid on her thigh. "My name's Sister. I saw you talking with the commander earlier. I'm sorry."

Whatever it was you'd been expecting, or hoping, to hear, none of that was on your list. Funnily enough, you're the most disappointed to hear her name. You've heard all sorts of names here - Charger, Atin, Tango, Tai - some are unique, some are shared, but you had been hoping that her name would be one of the more unique and interesting ones, something that would give you an idea of who she is. Something you might find yourself saying over and over again. But Sister... It makes sense. In this respect, you suppose it is one of the more unique ones, but it doesn't exactly lend itself to romantic notions.

By the time that thought has come and gone, you've managed to blink and the rest of her introduction has finally processed. "'Sorry'?" you echo. "For what?"

Sister manages a wrinkled smile. "He seems t' be under the impression that you fancy me. 's why he indulged himself in a refill."

And finally, it clicks. She's not interested. She's picked up on your lingering looks and generally amorous aura, most likely, and after a miscommunication with her commander, she's here to let you down easy.

You shake your head even as your eyes drop to Sister's shoulder. It's too embarrassing to hold her gaze anymore. "No, I'm sorry. I haven't been professional enough. You... you don't have to apologize for anything. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Now, if she'll just let it go here, you can head back to your apartment and nurse your rejection with some comfort food and a holo.

"You didn't." And your head snaps up so quickly that it almost hurts. The expression she's wearing now is curious, confused. "I thought I'd made you uncomfortable. Some of the men like t' play matchmaker when they get an idea in their heads," she explains, "and this was one time I couldn't talk him out of it."

"So..."

You don't even dare to hope, but maybe...

"I don't suppose you'd be interested in goin' for a drink?"

She makes for a fierce and brave soldier, you're sure, but it's impossible in this moment not to see the tension in her brows and shoulders, the way her throat bobs when she swallows, the awkward bend of her legs. She's nervous, perhaps as nervous as you would be if you'd ever managed the courage to ask her out first.

"Is that what you want?" You'd hate for her to go to all this trouble just because of Cody. Because it would really hurt if that's all this is.

Sister smiles faintly, the inner corner of her brows turning up a bit as she considers you. There's a few seconds where she tilts her head down at you and the lights change behind her, and it's like she's haloed in hues of purple and orange. Kriff, she's gorgeous.

"Only if that's what you want."

You find yourself nodding without even a moment of hesitation or thought. And the whisper of a smile on the trooper's face blossoms into a grin. She offers you her arm and it feels only natural to take it.

May the gods, the Maker, and anyone else bless Jango Fett for getting himself cloned. You wonder sometimes if he was much of a romantic, or a flirt, if he was good with the ladies, the men, with anyone who wanted him, if he knew just what to say and do to make people trip all over themselves for him. Because Sister is amazing at it without even trying.

Any time she's on Coruscant, she takes you out, and every time you find yourself falling a little deeper for her. She's often quite serious and keeps many of her thoughts to herself, content to ask a few questions and listen to you ramble on, but it's charming the way she does it. Because she remembers. You'd mentioned that first night how you loved to take your kaf a certain way, and the very next date she took you to a (clone friendly) place on one of the middle levels and recited your order perfectly. She opens doors for you, walks on the street side of the duracrete when she can, and she has this way of smiling at you that makes your heartrate triple and your chest feel tight.

"Can I ask you something?"

She takes a bite of her food and nods, encouraging you with a gentle hum.

It's been on your mind a lot. Not because it bothers you, but because you're curious why she never chose something else. "Could I... I was wondering... Your name. Did you pick it?" You can think of a number of other descriptors that don't simply relay her familial status - considerate, polite, beautiful, smart, strong.

It's hard to read her expression now, but you notice that she goes a little tense. "It was given to me by my brothers. It was their way of showing they accepted me."

"Why wouldn't they accept you?"

Sister's mouth twitches into a frown. "The issue was never with them," she explains, "but those on Kamino who see difference as a weakness."

The idea itself is mind boggling. "There's nothing about you that's weak." It comes unbidden from the depths of your heart, the most genuine and unfiltered thing you've probably ever said to her. You have the decency to flush at your level of earnest honesty, but decide in the end to simply roll with it. "I think you're wonderful."

Whatever she'd been thinking or feeling upon your initial questioning, it seems to morph now into something dazzling that strikes you right between the ribs when she smiles at you. "Not that you're biased," she teases.

You shake your head with false seriousness. "Not at all."

Her hand finds yours, the first time the two of you have touched beyond the offering and taking of an arm, or the exchanging of goods over the counter at 79's.

"Why the sudden interest in my name?"

It's a well-meaning question with no malice or hidden agenda - it's upfront in the same way that she is, but it makes you cringe with embarrassment all the same. Because yes, the two of you have been dating. Yes, she knows you like her and you know she likes you. Yes, these moments you share are precious, but to verbalize your reasoning would be another step closer to making whatever this is between you real. And that's terrifying.

But if you've learned anything these past weeks, it's that you could never deny Sister anything. Certainly not when she catches your eye and looks at you like she's the most beautiful, handsome, wonderful woman in the galaxy. (Even though she is.)

"Promise you won't laugh?" She nods and squeezes your hand for good measure. "I just thought that... Well, doesn't your name get awkward when you see people? I mean, like, dating?"

"You don't like it?" she says after a moment, and her hand goes slack in yours.

"No! That's not it. I think it's lovely, especially coming from your brothers. I only meant that it might have been awkward in the past. If you were ever with someone and they said your name when you were intimate." Your mouth is moving far faster than you can coherently think, faster than you can filter your thoughts, and so it's all coming out and you're helpless to stop it because you have to explain yourself, you have to make sure she understands. You don't want her to think you don't like her all because you stuck your foot in your mouth like an idiot. "Or maybe that never came up. I don't know, I don't want to presume. I don't always say my partner's name when we're intimate. Not that I'm assuming we will be! I, I only meant... Well..."

You're left feeling stupid at the end of it. And speechless. And embarrassed. And horrified that you've just ruined the most wonderful thing to ever happen to you. You can't even look at her now.

All the noises of Coruscant's busy airlanes and buzzing market stalls and irritated pedestrians flood your senses as you close your eyes against your shame. There's a speeder backfiring a few roads over, it sounds like. Someone is arguing in Huttese at one of the stalls. And Sister is quiet when she takes your hand again, impossibly gentle and unsettlingly silent.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't. Or you were thinking too much." But it's not said as an accusation. You peek one eye open, then the other, and are surprised to find Sister watching you with a bemused expression and a quirked eyebrow. "Been sitting on that one for long?"

You sputter wordlessly for several seconds before she puts you out of your misery.

"You're cute when you're flustered, cyar'ika." And she drops your hand in favor of cupping your chin beneath her thumb. It somehow manages to wipe your brain of all coherent thought. "Didn't know you thought about us being intimate so much."

It would be better for a rancor to swallow you whole than to endure another minute of this blissful, terrible, wonderful torture. You want her to let it go, but you also want her to stay exactly where she is and keep teasing you until your legs give out. You're not sure what that says about you.

"Tell you what," she continues once she realizes you've temporarily lost the ability to speak, "if we ever decide to be intimate, you can call me cyare. Yeah?"

Through some miracle of the Force, you're able to manipulate your tongue into functioning again. "What's that mean?"

Sister only smirks, the first true smirk she's ever given you and you're certain it'll stop your heart. But it softens a moment later. "Beloved," she murmurs, eyes lingering on the movement of your mouth as you lick your lips. She's still gently grasping your chin and you're still falling for her, hard and fast.

"I like that. I like you."

"Yeah?" There's a moment where you think she might kiss you, but she leans in and instead presses her nose to yours, then her forehead to your forehead, and all you feel is the warmth of her breath on your skin. "I like you, too, cyar'ika." She smells like spiced meat and kaf and some sort of muted cologne, but it's not like the kind you've caught a whiff of from her brothers. It's rich and sharp, but with a hint of something softer and sweeter, like citrus and jasmine.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, and Sister huffs.

"Thought you'd never ask."

prompt: cody 💛✔️

@clonexreaderbingo

taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @moodymisty @wolffegirlsunite @bobaprint @freesia-writes @deewithani @wings-and-beskar @wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @multi-fan-dom-madness @deejadabbles

(i'm pretty sure this is my full taglist, but if i forgot you please let me know! i think i lost track of a couple requests and would love to add y'all if you want)

#clone trooper sister #clone trooper sister x reader #commander cody #cfb2023 #star wars #inspired by: i am extremely bisexual and beautiful women make me nervous

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fandom-friday · 3 months

Text

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

✨ = 18+ content

Fics:

The Clone Wars: ✨ Poets and Painters (Early Morning) (Commander Wolffe x gn!Reader) by @frostycatblr-fandom-files ✨ A Twisted Fantasy (Commander Wolffe x f!Reader) by @rexxdjarin ✨ I Need You (Commander Wolffe x OC Sadhbh) by @ulchabhangorm ✨ Lean on Me (Kix x f!Reader) by @the-bad-batch-baroness Wreck My Plans (Fives x f!Reader) by @purplefangirl42 ✨ Golden Hour (Commander Fox x f!Reader) by @wizardofrozz ✨ Invisible Barriers (Fi Skirata x f!Reader) by @the-rain-on-kamino The Ties That Bind Us by @saggitary Adjustments by @ace-oreos

The Bad Batch: Tech-ology: Vol. II - Purgilltory by @apocalyp-tech-a

Rebels: ✨ One Last Chance (Rebels!Cody x f!Reader) by @wings-and-beskar

The Book of Boba Fett: The Daimyo's Dream (Boba Fett x f!Reader) by @pickleprickle ✨ An Honest Day's Work (Contractor!Boba Fett x f!Reader) by @daimyosprincess ✨ Biscuits and Beskar (Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu) by @marierg

Star Wars Prequel Trilogy: My Choice (Jango Fett x f!Reader) by @vodika-vibes

Star Wars Original Trilogy: As the Water Wills (OC Kyga x OC Jol) by @btwxsixesandsevens

Star Wars Sequel Trilogy: ✨ Opals for Roses (Jannah x Rose Tico) by @btwxsixesandsevens

Batman: Tooth and Claw by BrickSheep (AO3) Mama's Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird by @blazonix

Marvel: ✨ Why Don't You Do Right (Bucky x Sarah Wilson) by @btwxsixesandsevens

Crossover AUs: Bound in Blood (Miraculous Ladybug/Batman Crossover) (Ladybug x Dick Grayson) by @newdog14writes

Art:

The Clone Wars: Jedi Were Not Meant for War by @amarcia OC Zeeta Art by @rexxdjarin Commander Wolffe Art by @bianvers Long-Haired Fox Art by @jupiterky

The Bad Batch: Commander Mayday Art by @hootydoot Sunkissed by @the-rain-on-kamino Echo Art by @pinkiemme Echo and Ahsoka Reunion Art by @chedaar21

Crossover AUs: Echo and Echo Art by @blessyo4

#ff weekly summary

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dreamlandcreations · 9 months

Text

Thank you for the tag @kayhi808

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

I'm starting a new post bc I have too many WIPs (and these are just the ones in my drafts) 🙈

tag as many people as there are documents... but but but there are more than a hundred drafts 😭 anyway

tagging: @zablife @raincoffeeandfandoms @cinebration @marvelmusing @massivecolorspygiant @celestialspecial @stardustmorozov @startrekkingaroundasgard @oneeyedvisenya @happilyhertale @drabbles-mc @withmyteeth @runnning-outof-time @storiesbyrhi @nickfowlerrr

Little Miller - Benny Miller x Reader

Not tonight - Boba Fett x assassin!Reader (x Fennec Shand)

Speak freely - Boba Fett x half alien!Reader (platonic)

Games - Boba Fett x Mandalorian!Reader

Just a simple man - Jango Fett x half alien!Reader

Happily ever after - Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Hey, Kid - Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

First - Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

The King - Tattooed Biker!Boba Fett x Reader

A deal is a deal - Raymond Smith x half Asian!Reader

Day and Night - Brother Day x Reader

Second Chances - Boba Fett x force sensitive!Reader

One King - Bishop x vampire!Reader (Night Teeth!au)

Reality - Boba Fett x force sensitive!Reader

I know what day it is - Bishop x Reader

Slave to Sensation - changeling!Billy Russo x psy!Reader

Angel's crush - Bishop x tattoo artist!reader

What you need - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

What you want - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

What you have - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

Tangled, twisted or maybe something right - Billy Russo x Stark!Reader

Best friend - Bucky Barnes x Wilson!Reader

Stranger - Billy Russo x Reader

Apprentice - Doctor Strange x sorceress!Reader

Misery loves company - Venom x Reader x Eddie

We broke up - Eddie x Reader x Venom

Once upon a time - King Arthur x royal!Reader

Wicked - shifter!Santi x witch!Reader

Desert Flower - shifter!Benny x (non)human!Reader

Reaper - Venom x Reader x Eddie

The proposal (Would you like to series) Tommy x Reader x Alfie

Kissing Alfie Solomons - Alfie x Reader

Lighten up - Darkling x Fjerdan!Reader

Faeted hearts - fae king!Alfie x half-fae!Reader

Castaway AU - Billy Russo x Reader

Grimm AU - blutbad!Alfie x grimm!Reader

Fearless - Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

I'm here for you - Billy Russo x Reader

Scheming, games and secrets - Alfie x Reader + Tommy

Fortune Favours the Brave - Eddie Munson x cheerleader!Reader

What women want - Billy Russo x genderfluid/nonbinary(afab)!Reader

Slayer - dragon shifter!Alfie Solomons x warrior princess!Reader

See you at the office - Alfie Solomons x ex-assistant!Reader

Weave it into words - (clan leader) king!Alfie Solomons x Shelby princess!Reader (Brave AU)

Crave the love - prince!Billy Russo x princess!Reader

Jeweller - Alfie Solomons x Tatiana's cousin!Reader

What's underneath? - Alfie x Reader

You only need to ask - Raymond Smith x aristocrat!Reader

What about dessert? - chef!Alfie x manager!Reader (modern!au)

The bright side - FO!Poe Dameron x Jedi!Reader

More than seeking comfort - Eddie Brock x Reader

Bait - Derek Hale x hunter!Reader

Cosy on the throne - Tattooed Biker!Boba Fett x Reader

This is not your color - Eddie Munson x Reader

Distraction - Max x Reader (Mad Max: Fury Road)

Three is still a company - Billy Russo x Reader x Frank Castle

You missed a spot - Brother Day x Reader

Behind closed doors - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

Don't mind me - Alfie Solomons x Reader (x Tommy Shelby)

Feeling adventurous? - Eddie Munson x Reader

I can wait - Alina x Reader (Darkling x Alina x Mal)

Why the f*ck not? - Alfie Solomons x Reader x May Carleton x Tommy Shelby

Solace - Boba Fett x Reader

First time - Billy Russo x Reader

I'm all yours - Billy Russo x Reader

Patience - Billy Russo x Reader

The Happiest Day of Our Lives - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

Mirror, mirror - Aleksander Morozova x Reader (xAlina)

Perfect - Darkling x Reader

Necessary evil - Darkling x Inferni!Reader

King of the Seven Seas - Atlantean king!Alfie x Reader

Don't you f*cking dare - chef!Alfie Solomons x manager!Reader

Do you doubt me? - James Delaney x Strange!Reader

Remedy - James Delaney x Reader

Unexpected - Matt Murdock x Reader x Elektra

Sweet torment - Alfie Solomons x Reader

Mr CEO - Billy Russo x Reader

Complications - Darkling x reader

Preying on you tonight - werewolf!Billy Russo x Reader

Sweet victory - Jake Seresin x Reader

The fun kind - Jake Seresin x Reader

Catch me if you can - Jake Seresin x Reader

Black and White - Darkling x Fjerdan princess!Reader

Stay Forever - Jake Seresin x BFF!Reader

In my corner - Billy Russo x Reader

Heartbeat - Milo/Lucien Crown x Reader

Just friends - modern!Alfie Solomons x Reader

That's the rule - Jake Seresin x Reader

Fire and Blood - Daemon x daughter!Reader (platonic)

The Bronze Witch - Aemond Targaryen x Daemon's daughter!Reader

Unity - Darkling x Fjerdan!Reader x Nikolai Lantsov

Risk and reward - Jake Seresin x Reader

Late night visit - Aemond x Reader

Peace offering - Aemond x Reader

The first warning - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Stay with me - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Like calls to like - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Darkest hearts - Darkling x Nikolai's twin!Reader

Nothing - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Heartbreak - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

The eternity of this day - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

A dream come true - Eames x Reader

A debt to be paid - Aemond x Reader

Honourable Quest - Xenk Yendar x Reader

Honouring a Debt - Xenk Yendar x Reader

Sacrifice of Honour - Xenk Yendar x Reader

My Queen - Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Naru - Sesshōmaru x modern!Reader

Fire and Blood, Ashes and Dust - Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

Give him to me - Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

The Taming of the Dragon - Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

The day you died - supervillain!Darkling x superhero!Reader

#wip tag game #i'm the worst #🙈

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janghoefett · 2 years

Text

No Mistakes - Chapter 2

Jango Fett x F!Reader

Summary: As an old family friend of Jango Fett’s on Concord Dawn, Reader always assumed Jango died with the rest of his family when Death Watch attacked their farm. She moved to Coruscant shortly after the murders, so she never found out Jango was alive and that he had quite the reputation. Well, now that Jango frequents Coruscant, he happens to run into his long lost friend… at a cantina, of course.

Series Rating: Explicit (18+) for smut and adult themes Pairing: F/M Chapter Word Count: 3k Chapter warnings: Memories of wartime, the sound of an explosion, and a little making out.

SERIES MASTERLIST ———————————

He turned down Zam that night. She was in town and had sent him a message that left no doubt of what she wanted, but Jango needed to be alone. Not only did he find himself uninterested in the assassin, but his mind was spinning with memories and his heart was full of emotions that he no longer knew how to decipher.

It left him somewhere between sadness and hope.

How many times had you crossed his mind since he last saw you on Concord Dawn? He had often wondered where you settled down, what you did for a living, if you had a family... but most of all he had wondered if you were happy. The girl he saw sitting alone at a bar looked far from it, and Jango recognized some of himself in you.

Of course, he had weighed the idea of looking you up many times over the years. Jango was good at finding people - he was great at it - but something always held him back... perhaps it was the little voice in his head saying he might not like what he found, and without knowing he could keep the illusion of you living a normal life somewhere as a comfort. Now there was no more mystery. He had found you and you were just as kind and lovely as he had always remembered, only now he himself was far from that person he used to be.

Jango Fett’s world was cold and unforgiving. As much as he wanted to recover the connection he had lost with you, it was that same little voice in his head that was telling him women like you don’t belong with men like him, and that if he cared about you at all, he would leave you right where he found you so that he wouldn’t hurt you. Jango was stubborn, though, and he told himself was going to see you again. He had to.

That same night you were lying in bed with a million questions running through your mind. Why didn’t you ask so many of the questions you should have asked, like where did he live? How long would he be on Coruscant? And, deep down you were wondering, had Jango asked to buy you a drink because he was flirting with you, or was it simply because he had recognized you the whole time?

You were just in shock, understandably, and you told yourself that the next time you saw him you would be more prepared. So you each laid there that night, alone in your beds, thinking about each other and wondering where this would go… because neither of you knew just how lonely you were until you found each other again.

Jango called you the next morning, just like he said he would, but only to tell you that he was leaving. Your heart nearly stops and you find your voice sounding pitifully desperate. “Are you going to be back?” you ask nervously.

“Course I will. I’ll come by just to see you,” Jango says from the cockpit of Slave I, smiling softly at your reaction. “I just have to be home for the next few days.”

You grunt in acknowledgment and bounce your leg for moment before speaking again. “And where is home? I can’t believe I didn’t ask last night,” you laugh softly.

“If I don’t tell you now, it is only for your protection,” Jango frowns. “I’m sorry.”

Oh.

A chill runs up your spine. You didn’t know what to say to a statement so cryptic, but you trust Jango when he says it is for your protection. Before you have time to doubt the bounty hunter, he continues. “I enjoyed seeing you last night, love,” he rasps. “You have no idea how much I needed to see you.”

“I feel the same way,” you sigh happily. “I hope... well I hope you come back soon, because I’d really like to see you again, okay?”

“I’ll be back. You have my word.”

A week had passed since that call and you weren’t quite sure what you did in that time. You made your income doing odd jobs and had stayed at home reliving memories of Jango that you had almost forgotten. At times you could hear the fighting from home on Concord Dawn. It was always from a distance - until it wasn’t, that is - but every time you heard even the faintest scream or the rumbling of an explosion, you got scared - of course you got scared, you were just a kid.

You can recall playing in the cornfield behind the Fetts’ home. It was sunset, with golden light pouring through the crop and creating a warm haze over everything in its shelter. There you were sitting on the ground with Jango, drawing with sticks in the dirt as you often did to pass the time. Between your fits of giggles, you hear something loud in the distance, like a crash of epic proportions. Still, it was not close enough to cause major alarm and you were used to the disturbances, but your laughter stops and your breath hitches nonetheless.

Jango, on the other hand, looks up for only a moment before looking back down at his work, unalarmed. “Do the noises scare you?” he asks.

Jango was always so calm and cool and you were almost embarrassed to admit your fear, but the boy wasn’t totally unfeeling, and you nod quietly. He smiles and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s far away. We’re safe out here,” he says confidently.

You try to keep drawing. The sun was setting fast and you decided you could not contain your anxiety any longer. “What if they come here?” you ask with a shake in your voice.

“Then I’ll protect you,” Jango promises.

Truth is, young Jango wouldn’t have stood much of a chance against Mandalorian fighters, but it didn’t matter. He cured your nerves and he meant what he said with all his heart. So he sat with you there in the shelter of the cornfield till everything went quiet later that evening, and he walked you to your home.

You were good kids. The paths life had taken you on were by no means chosen by either one of you, and the darkness that you sensed in Jango had not festered until he became a man. However it was moments like this that could not be forgotten by either one of you, and now, after all this time, you find yourselves still caring for each other even as mismatched strangers.

The bright blue light of your comlink stirs you from your thoughts. You had an incoming message... from Jango Fett.

“How are you?”

That’s all he wrote. Formal. No introduction. Still sweet. You quickly type out your response:

“Good, how are you?”

You cringe as soon as you send it. You weren’t quite sure how to talk to Jango anymore and everything just felt stiff. Nothing comes back after a moment and you wonder if you should have added something a bit more entertaining, when finally you receive a response. “I am well. I’d like to see you soon, if you are free.”

Your face lights up and your fingers dance over the keypad quickly. “Of course. When did you want to come?”

“Could I see you tonight?”

“Yes! Come over any time you’d like.”

You get up from your bed and begin tidying up like a madwoman until you decide there is nothing more to do, then you try on about ten different outfits before settling on what you were already wearing. Stars, you don’t know why you are just so nervous...

Jango comes later that night. You usher him inside and you each steal a quick kiss on each other’s cheeks, and he wraps you up in his large arms. “Hello, love, I’m sorry for not giving you more notice,” he says.

“It’s fine!” you chuckle. “Make yourself at home.”

Jango drapes his cloak over the arm of your sofa and begins to unfasten pieces of his armor as you head into the galley. “Would you like some caf? How about wine?” you call.

“What are you having?” he asks.

“Probably the wine.”

“Then I’ll have that as well,” he says. “Thank you.”

You take two glasses from the cabinet and begin to pour. You had been hanging on to this expensive bottle for quite some time in the event of an unexpected guest, and tonight was the perfect occasion. Jango takes a seat on the sofa and you join him, and you set the two glasses on the table.

You watch Jango take his first sip and grunt in approval of the wine. It was something as simple as watching the way his lips wrap around the glass that makes your mind drift elsewhere, and slowly you start to become more aware of the profound attraction you feel for him now.

It terrifies you.

Not only because Jango was in an unforgiving profession, but because this friendship was one of the few sources of light in your life, and one wrong move or a plague of unreciprocated feelings could douse that light in a heartbeat. So, you wrap your lips around your glass and tilt your head back, watching Jango as you take a hearty sip.

“Why are you back so soon?” you ask.

Jango sets his glass down and searches your face before answering, knowing full of well his answer was going to take you by surprise. “I’ve brought my son to boarding school here,” he replies with a grin.

You nearly choke on your wine and your eyes burst open shock. “Your son! You have a son?” you beam.

“I do,” Jango chuckles softly. “His name is Boba, he’s eight.”

You had painted Jango in your mind as the lone bounty hunter, and the idea of him having a child was never something you could have expected. Jango was a proud father, of course, which you could tell by taking one look at his face as he talks about his son, and that fond smile of his is infectious.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m so surprised,” you say after a moment.

“Most people are,” Jango acknowledges. “Boba is training hard to become a bounty hunter, but I do not want him to fall behind in his standard education.”

“Were you able to finish school?” you ask him, taking another sip of wine.

“No, I couldn’t,” Jango replies. “That is why I want Boba to study. I want him to be smarter than his old man.”

There was only one question spinning in your mind now:

What was the story with Boba’s mother?

Jango talked like it was just the two of them and you assumed he would have mentioned the mother if that were not the case, but you could be mistaken. Was she just not in the picture? Had she died? Or maybe Boba was adopted... maybe Jango and the mother were amicably separated and Boba would split his time between them... or what if they were still together?

“Are you still with Boba’s mother?” you blurt out.

Fuck. The wine was already working.

“I am not with anyone,” Jango answers, leaning forward with a handsome grin. “And Boba is mine alone.”

Oh. You hum in acknowledgement and take a nervous sip of your drink, finding yourself relieved by his answer.

“And are you seeing anyone?” Jango counters, cocking an eyebrow.

“No, I’m not,” you reply coyly.

There’s a beat of silence before you each meet each other’s gaze and smile. It was the spark of something, a silent acknowledgement of something you were each not eager to confess. “Then the men of Coruscant are just as brainless as I suspected,” Jango muses.

You laugh at his remark and take another sip of wine. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t believe how much there is I don’t know about you,” you express.

Jango moves closer to you. He takes your hand in his two and he rubs the soft skin of your knuckles. “Nor I you, mesh’la,” he says with a soft smile. “You are all I have left of my past, but I am no longer that boy you used to play with in the cornfield.”

Hearing that Jango remembered your time together just as you did makes your heart ache, and you bring your hand to rest on his cheek. “And I am not that girl,” you whisper. “But I would still like to know the man you’ve become.”

You could assume Jango had killed without him needing to tell you. You could see something changed in his eyes and you could feel the wear on his hands. There is something noble about him, however, and there’s a warmth in the way he touches you that make you feel safe.

You trust him.

Your faces are so close, and your eyes begin to wander over each other’s features. How easy it would be for your lips to meet now... you each feel it too, that building desire to try for something more. Instead of acting on those feelings, Jango brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

"I would like for you to meet my son tomorrow when I take him into the academy,” he says.

“I’d love that,” you smile.

Jango gently lets go of your hands and reaches into his pocket to check his comlink. “Boba is sleeping now. I shouldn’t leave him too long,” he explains.

“Of course. Please, go be with your son,” you insist.

You watch as Jango stands and begins to collect his things until Jango leans in to kiss your cheek as a quick goodbye, thanking you for the wine and leaving you alone once again.

What the hell was happening between you?

---------

You can see why Jango wanted his son to attend a Coruscanti academy. This was far more than you ever had on Concord Dawn, where your town hardly enough population to warrant at least one schoolroom. Here there are students of all ages in crisp uniforms and the school itself is a huge glass fortress. Boba would receive a good education here, without a doubt.

With a hand on the boy’s shoulder, Jango walks Boba towards you and you can tell he is a little firecracker by taking just one look at him. He stares quizzically at you and looks up to his dad, who introduces you. “Pleasure to meet you, Boba,” you smile. You offer your hand to the child and he shakes it with his smaller one.

“Are you a bounty hunter too?” he asks skeptically.

“No, not at all,” you chuckle.

“Boba hasn’t met many connections of mine who weren’t bounty hunters,” Jango interjects with a sly smile. “She’s a very old friend of mine, ad’ika, I’ve known her since she was smaller than you. We both grew up on Concord Dawn.”

The boy squints and looks back at you. “That’s weird,” he says, cocking an eyebrow just like his father does.

You couldn’t help but stare slightly at Boba. The resemblance to his father is wildly uncanny; you had known Jango when he was Boba’s age, and if your memory served you correctly, this boy was his splitting image. Whether this was true or just a trick of your faded memory, you still couldn’t recall ever seeing a father and son with such a strong resemblance as this.

“Are you looking forward to your program?” you ask Boba.

“No,” the boy replies frankly. “I’d rather be training with my dad.”

You look to Jango with a knowing expression, and he returns your gaze with a crooked grin. “Yeah, I get that. School is no fun,” you shrug.

“Did you and my dad go to school together?” Boba asks.

“Yes, we did,” you smile.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Boba looks up to his dad with a mischievous grin before looking back at you. “Then I would like to make a friend here too,” he declares.

Jango moves to kneel in front of Boba and steadies him by the shoulders. “Work hard, son. Stay alert,” he instructs.

“I will,” Boba says determinedly. “Bye, ma’am. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Bye, Boba! Hope to see you again soon.”

Jango pats his son on the back and watches until he makes it inside, and he turns to you with that proud smile once more. “He’s just like you,” you say incredulously.

“Yes, he is…” Jango mumbles. “In more ways than one.”

You brought Jango back to your apartment, where you made lunch for the two of you. You had asked if he had anything he needed to run off to, but Jango was adamant that he was all yours for the day. “There’s always more work to do, but a day’s rest will do me good,” he explained.

So, you spent the afternoon rehashing memories. Jango had many questions for you which you answered gladly, and finally you felt as if that comfort and familiarity was setting in.

It was easy. Finally, it was easy, thank the maker.

It was only when the conversation came to a natural lull and the sun was beginning to set that you realized you had reached an impasse. He’s illuminated golden by the setting sunlight pouring through the curtains, and you find yourself speaking out of impulse.

“Do you want to stay?” you ask Jango softly.

He’s quiet. He looks at you for a moment before sauntering closer, searching your face with dark eyes, and your breath hitches in anticipation.

“Do you want me to stay?” he counters.

You do not speak, but your eyes tell him all he needs to know.

Jango’s strong arms pull you in by the waist. Your gazes meet, and just like that, you find his lips are on yours. You melt into his mouth, kissing him without hesitation as your tongues draw pleasure from the soft touch. Only heavy breaths and your muffled moans can be heard, harmonizing with the smack of your lips, when finally you steady his face between your hands.

“Stay.”

#jango fett #jango fett x reader #jango fett x you #Star Wars #jango juice

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starmanskywalker · 1 year

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i have this wip that's almost getting stale in my google docs but

its already pretty long and it would be unfair to let it rot in obscurity

its also fun and prob the best thing i've written so far

so here's a lil snippet for u to decide if it's indeed worth the effort or not 😶‍🌫️and to show you guys im not dead despite covid trying hard to off me !!

it shares its title with an abba song im not disclosing yet for ✨mysterious purposes✨ and yeah its an anakin x reader fic bc i love this cocky loser way too much.

In order to distance yourself from his touch but also make sure you weren’t being heard, you peek out of the alcove. No burly men in sight. You take a deep breath before returning to your routine.

Anakin dodges the question and your unnecessary (?) bitterness. “What do you mean we can’t make it discreet?”

You huff in annoyance at his lack of preparation. “We can, but I told you plenty of times that Jango's room is full of his own bugs from the floor to the roof. We’ll face an entire army if we’re not cautious enough, and we’ll have to entertain him in order to get what we need.”

“Do we even have the backup for this?”

“Of course we do! Plenty! Do you think I’m an idiot? And do you even remember what we’re supposed to do to get him to do what we want?”

It’s true what they say about breakups: you tend to only remember the nicer things in your relationship whenever the yearning hits. Well, you were just reminded of one thing that was deeply annoying about Anakin and working with him: he was too sure of himself to stick or pay attention to plans. His silence is the answer you need. “Fuck, Anakin.” Your face wrinkles in irritation. “The moment we go there and you make your bid for me, he’ll probably ask me to give you a trial. We’ll then give him something to look at - he’s a perv. He’ll love that.”

You sit on his lap and unabashedly grind against him to the rhythm of the song - knowing he’s unable to do anything about it, that’s the best way you can find to get your revenge on his recklessness all while teasing what’ll come further in the night. And it’s surprisingly on character too.

The breath that rushes from Lars is a sharp one; you can see how his pupils dilate, hear the pattern shift in his breathing. He palms your hips in order to keep the movement steady. “Just like that.” You moan, already disarmingly wet by the indirect and clothed friction of his already rock-hard cock against your pulsating clit. “He’ll turn all systems off because he’ll want the sights and… and sounds all to himself,” you explain, both of your bodies quickly overtaken by the desire you two still have for each other. “And he’ll excuse his men from the room.”

“How do you know that?” He groans and you feel his grip on your hips tighten.

“I just do,” you limit yourself to answer. “Unlike some, I do my research.”

And just before you get to the point of no return, one of Jango’s henchmen arrive to pull off the brakes in your interaction, making you briskly get off Anakin’s lap. Skywalker tries to hide his crystal clear excitement at having you on top of him after so long. “Sir, sorry to interrupt, but if you want to play, you’ll have to pay.”

“‘f course,” he answers, trying to recompose himself. “I do want her for a night, Rex. Can we arrange that?”

“Always, sir.”

#anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

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Hi beautiful!!!!!!

Goodness I've been over your prompt list so many times. There are so many good ones I don't know which ones to choose 🥵 so here's what I finally decided on! (For now 😉) 11 and 23 with my man Hunter please!!!

Can't wait to see what you create!!!! ❤️

Hello gorgeous! My dear @dragonrider9905 I knew you'd come to me with Hunter. Not that I blame you in anyway, shape or form. Also the GIF has nothing to do with the story ... I picked it because he looked hot in it. LOL

I hope you enjoy it, it's a little short.

I Love You

Warnings: Blaster shot, headache, injury, feelings being a burden, fluff, angst, declarations of love.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You sat beside Hunter, holding his hand waiting for him to come to; the blaster to the chest knocked him out for a good while. Thankfully, his armour stopped any serious damage, but seeing him not responding was driving you crazy.

“He’ll come to, in a little while” Tech offered as he came to check on Hunter.

“I know. I just … when I saw the blaster hole on his chest plate … I couldn’t breathe … I just need him to wake up.”

“So you can yell at him?”

You glanced up to Tech, smirking, “Maybe. But that’s neither here nor there.”

“Just try not to yell too loudly, he’ll have a horrible headache when he wakes.”

“Then my point will get across even faster.”

Tech shook his head, “You have a strange way of showing your love.”

“I know,” you answered, your smile slowly shifting. It had been something Hunter mentioned over and over again, sometimes you got a little carried away with how much you loved him. Worrying about things you didn’t need to worry about. Putting pressure on him, when you didn’t have to … it wasn’t because you were possessive, or needed to lay a claim on him. It was because you were afraid to lose him.

You already lost so much, family, friends, home, that when you met Hunter and his brothers, it was a life line you desperately needed.

“Don’t worry, he may grumble a little but he enjoys the way you shower him with affection.”

“Thanks, Tech.”

He nodded before moving away, and he was right. It was about ten minutes later when Hunter started to stir, “Easy.” You kept your hand on his shoulder, keeping him from sitting up. “You took a blaster shot to the chest.”

“Is that why it feels like Wrecker sat on me?” He groaned out.

“Yeah … listen, I need to say something and I want you to really listen.”

Hunter looked into your eyes ready for whatever you had to tell him, “Okay …” he could never really tell where your thoughts would run to, this could’ve gone one of two ways, you breaking up with him or you declaring your love for him. It was one of the things he did love about you, your unpredictability.

“I want you to know, the only one who gets to kill you, is me.”

He tried to laugh a little, his head hurting with each jostle, “Not what I was expecting.”

“I’m serious,” you giggled along with him. “I’m the only one that’s allowed to kill you, so next time, duck.” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I didn’t get shot because I wanted to.” He clarified, closing his eyes and relishing in the kiss on his forehead.

“I know. I just … Seeing you get hit, the smoke, the hole … I thought I lost you at that moment.” You pressed your forehead against his as you gently cupped his cheek.

“You didn’t. You won’t.”

“I can’t lose you, Hunter.”

“I know, love. I know.” He let out a sigh filled with tension and disappointment.

“I’m sorry for loving you the way I do.” You offered, you tried not to be a burden, but from the way he sighed you could tell, “My feelings were never supposed to be a burden for you.” You pulled back to look at him, “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

Hunter shook his head as he cupped your cheek, “No. I love the way you love me. Makes me feel special, that I matter. My sigh wasn’t because I was upset with you, I was upset by what you’ve been through already. I don’t want you to lose anything else, either. I promise to be more careful.”

You turned your head and kissed his palm nodding as a tear slid down, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders knowing that you weren’t a burden to him.

He patted the spot beside him, an unspoken invitation to have you lie down in the space that you had claimed since the first time you both started dating. You smiled as you adjusted yourself, resting your head on his shoulder, as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you, cyar’ika”

“I know. I love you, too Hunter.”

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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vodika-vibes · 1 month

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Happy Follower Event! Could I ask for Jango Fett with tanzanite in winter? You write some of the best Jango fics that always hit the spot for me.

Winter Wonderland

Summary: You love Jango, and he loves you. And after an annoying dinner party with people who think you deserve something else, you have a surprise for him.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 868

Prompt: Tanzanite - Perceptive Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I hope this is close to what you wanted. I went with their 'perceptive love' being more aimed towards being able to read each other no matter where they might be in the room.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask as you spin in front of Jango, allowing the hem of your sweater dress to swirl around your legs.

A small smile plays on the corner of his lips, “You look stunning, as ever.” He straightens from where he’s leaning against the wall and holds out a hand to you.

You beam at him and step into his personal space sliding your hand into his, “You know, you don’t have to wear your armor everywhere.” You tease.

“It’s warm, and I’m hardly the star of this event,” He presses a feather light kiss against the corner of your lips, “That honor belongs to you.”

Your face heats and you duck your head, “You know mother is going to take this opportunity to arrange a marriage for me, right?”

He chuckles, “I’m not worried.”

“I am!”

“Don’t be. I have you.”

Any and all of the nervous energy thrumming through your body fades at his words. He’s so confident, how could you possibly doubt him?

So you smile at him, and gently brush your lips against his, “My hero.” You lightly pull away and press his helmet into his hands, “We might as well get this over with.”

He chuckles and pulls his helmet on, “Don’t sound too eager, cyare.”

“Well, there’s no risk of that happening.” You tease before you follow him out of the bedroom and into the main part of the hotel room you’re sharing. You pull your boots on as Jango straps his weapons to his body, and then Jango is escorting you to the elevator and down to the banquet hall.

“Darling!” You hide your grimace with the ease of long practice as your mother charges over to you like a bull, and gives you a critical once over, “Well, you don’t look like you just crawled out of the trash, so I’ll take it.” She glances at Jango, “You can go away now. Bodyguards are staying in the back.”

You glance at Jango and flash a weak smile, every line of his body screams ‘not happy about this’ to your eyes, but he nods once and moves through the crowd to join the rest of the guards at the back of the room.

Forty five minutes later, you’re regretting coming to the banquet at all.

Mother is drunk and has draped herself over a man younger than you. Father is also drunk, and is holding court with a group of women ranging from your mother’s age to younger than you.

And you…well, you’ve been trying to dodge the man your mother decided that you’re going to marry for the better part of forty minutes.

So far, you’ve been pretty careful about making sure that you can’t be cornered. But you’re done. With this whole affair.

So you cast your gaze to the back of the room, and you catch Jango’s attention. His gaze has been a heavy, and comforting, weight against your skin since you arrived, and you tilt your head in just the way that you need to to indicate that you want to leave.

Jango’s at your side in less than 15 seconds, “Are you ready to leave, cyare?” he asks as he sets his hand against the small of your back.

“So ready.” You smile at him, “No one will even notice I’m gone.”

“He will.” Jango notes, tilting his head just enough to gesture to the man who’s been haunting you like a particularly annoying ghost.

“Is that jealousy I hear, Jango Fett?” You tease.

“Pity, mostly. Imagine thinking he could hold a candle to me.”

You laugh softly, “No one could ever compare.” You lean a bit closer, “I would like to leave, Jango.”

“I know, cyare.” He glances around, “This way.”

He leads you out a side door, into the brisk cold outside. There’s snow falling from the sky, and you release a happy hum as you move further away from the hotel.

“I love the winter, I think it’s my favorite season.”

Jango chuckles, his voice no longer altered by his vocoder, and you turn to look at him. He’s holding his helmet, and watching you with a small smile. “We met in the winter.”

You beam at him, and spin so you’re able to slide into his arms, “It was snowing,” You agree, “And I wasn’t dressed for the weather at all. And you offered me a place on your ship until I could warm up.”

“And you just never left.” Jango finishes with a fond smile, as he tightens his arms around you, “Smartest damn thing I’ve ever done.”

You giggle, and lean up to kiss his jaw. “Well, I happen to agree. But I also have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm, you’re going to need a bigger ship. It’s barely big enough for two…let alone three.”

“Three? Why would there be thre-” He stops and his gaze drops to your stomach, “Wait. Are you-?”

You smile sheepishly, “Surprise.”

You squeak when Jango crashes his lips against yours, “I love you,” He mumbles against your lips, “So.” He kisses you again, “Kriffing.” A third time. “Much.”

And you dissolve into giggles. You knew he’d be excited.

#star wars #star wars legends #vodika-vibes 500 followers celebration #jango fett x reader #jango x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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daisies-daydreams · 2 months

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2/29 - What I’m Working On

Hello everyone and Happy Leap Day! 😁 It’s been a while since I’ve done an announcement post, so I figured I’d give y’all an update on the requests I’m working on right now:

Sukuna x Plus-Sized!Wife!Reader (Fluff/Smut)

Actor!Miguel O’Hara x Plus-Sized!F!Reader (Fluff/Smut/Angst)

Hobie Brown x Lovesick!F!Reader (Fluff/Smut)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Male!Reader (Fluff, Slight Angst)

Jango Fett x F!Reader (Smut)

Thank you all again so much for your patience - it means the world to me (especially since I’m in a transition period and am leaving my current job). ❤️ Love y’all!

-Daisy

#update post #announcement #fanfiction

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imarvelatthestars · 6 months

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Just a Man: I

Pairings: Jango Fett x f!Reader

Content: this is a Headless Horseman au set during a historical time period on Earth with a special focus on Māori culture to honor Tem's heritage; warnings include - decapitation, violence & warfare, mercenary activity, explicit references to colonization, (D)jango is morally ambiguous and a problematic king but we love him anyway, and also smut

Notes: no use of y/n, although the reader is given a placeholder last name.

Many thanks to @moodymisty who inspired it & @wolffegirlsunite who let me yell all my feral ideas at her.

a playlist | next chapter

important vocab: aotearoa - literally 'the land of the long white cloud', the māori name for new zealand korowai - a type of cloak waka - canoe; waka hourua - large double-hulled canoes made for ocean travel iwi - tribe tamariki - children mana - the supernatural, indestructible power of the gods that exists in everything pounamu - special greenstone or jade that many pendants and patu are made out of patu - a traditional māori war club kaitiaki - guardian django - possibly from a romani word meaning "i awake"; fetu - alternate spelling of the māori name "whetu" (wh- = f-)

1575 – Rotorua, Aotearoa

It is cold this night and he draws his korowai tighter around his shoulders. Most are asleep by now and he ought to be among them, but the stars have kept him up, the stars and their reflections on the lake and what lies beyond them all. This wonder is not a new one. Fetu has wondered about the great beyond many times, enough to have been scolded for it beyond what he can count. Yet still the desire remains.

It calls to him now, itching at the back of his throat, at his hands, his feet, urging him to action, to run into the night and never look back. For the thousandth time, he wonders what sort of chaos would erupt in his absence. His wife would be furious and it might honestly be best that he never return should he indeed choose to leave – her fury would certainly kill him. His brothers would shake their heads, his parents would bow theirs in shame and reluctant resignation, but no one would be surprised.

No, he tells himself like he’s done every night before, I will stay. Duty. Honor. These are things that he believes in and to run would be to abandon them. I will stay.

The stars are quiet. So are the gods, though he swears he hears something on the wind, something like the crashing of waves on a shore that whispers, “Go. Run.”

Fetu shakes his head, one corner of his mouth cracking into a smile. He’s letting his mind run away with him again. Best to get some sleep before any more foolish ideas take root.

Sleep does come, but it doesn’t calm the hunger gnawing at the edges of his mind. The not-quite voice from the lakeshore follows him into his dreams and it is here that the world comes alive with thunder and lightning and the rumbling of the earth. He sees things he has never seen before – a great waka of a shape he would never have conceived with cloaks hovering high above the bow, strange weapons that spark as if crafted by god-fire, lands as brown as his skin that rise and fall like the mountains but shift like the sand on the beach, long stretches of ice and snow, beasts of unimaginable heights and with strange faces, taller even than the tallest warrior. All this could be his to explore, the dream tells him, less with words and more with the kiss of the sea breeze on his face.

Think of the legends, it says. And he does think of them. He pictures the ancestors who sailed from Hawaiki to discover this land, the waka hourua that sailed over vast oceans, the bravery and boldness still recalled over fires so many years later. He thinks of the desperation that has burned in his gut since he was a boy and how everyone in the iwi has tried to douse that fire, his parents, the elders, his brothers, his wife. But it doesn’t have to be that way any longer. He could run.

It would be shameful, he reasons.

It would only be shameful if he were to return. And both he and the dream know that he would never want to.

I have tamariki. They are young.

They are strong like he is. They will endure.

I belong here. Even though he has always known that a part of him belonged elsewhere.

Had the ancestors stayed where they belonged, he would not be here now to live and die. Had the ancestors lived in their fear-

Fetu bristles. I am not afraid.

And yet he stays.

He surveys the things his dream has shown him, the almost glimpses of foreign people at the edges of his vision. There is destiny in the wind that pulls at their hair, there are legends in the footsteps they leave behind. There is a place for him, only if he is willing to go.

He wakes to the sound of his son crying. Another bad dream, something about drowning in the belly of a beast whose mouth is too full of teeth. Fetu thinks that facing such a creature would be an admirable end, an exciting end. His skin pimples with the idea. But he shushes the boy and tells him to go back to sleep. After all, it was just a dream and dreams are not always true.

But sometimes. Sometimes they are. This is the part he keeps to himself.

He’s always been good at plans. It’s why his brothers have always deferred to him. He sees things differently than they do, understands how others think and how best to use that to his advantage. He knows when to be quiet and when to speak, when to wait and when to strike. So he knows that now is not the time to run off chasing his dreams. The start of his story must be slow and careful, it must be restrained, and while this restraint burns in his throat, it is nothing new. He’s been waiting his whole life. He can wait a few months more.

The seasons will change with the arrival of the new year. The weather will warm, food will grow, and he will prepare. New weapons will be made, provisions carefully measured in the back of his mind, valuable skills resharpened, deals made with neighboring iwis in the late evenings when no one knows he is even missing.

Strangest of all, though, is the ache that burrows into his sternum when he watches his children. Poa is growing into a man more and more with every day, a man both very like and very different to him. There’s a gentleness in his eyes that Fetu never felt at his age, but there is also his quiet strength and warrior’s prowess. And Omeka is much the same. She is soft at heart, but it is a deceiving softness. She’s wise for someone so young, very kind and very smart, and incredibly fierce. He smiles when he thinks about the man she will marry one day. Whoever he is, he will need all the help he can get.

He's proud. And he knows for certain now that they will endure without him. They will outlive him and carry his lessons on to their own children, and he will live on through them. It could almost be enough, but… it isn’t. There is a difference in his mind between the legacy of his descendants and the legacy of his name and deeds stitched into song.

The lands of his dreams still call to him when he sleeps. Forests and barren valleys and faded grasslands. He will go there one day. Soon. The weather is almost right. His provisions are nearly ready. His weapons are made. The rest of the world is so close that he can almost taste it.

There is a place at the very north of this land that is said to be the first spot where the ancestors first saw Aotearoa. The rest of the world lies beyond this point. Hawaiki is to the north, apparently, but that is a dead land. His focus is set on the west. Where does the sun go when it sinks beneath the horizon? What people live there? What markings will they bear on their faces, what stories will they tell? He wonders if Poa’s sand beast that eats children whole lives in those faraway lands, and he smiles. There’s only one way to know for sure.

And so the long white clouds of his people fade away with the waves. He sails into the horizon with his own waka and a man from another iwi, a fellow adventurer yearning to discover the untouched reaches of the sea. It is a long voyage and it is hard. Fetu’s back burns under the sun and his arms ache at the end of each day, but he is more alive now than he ever was before. He finds himself smiling. His chest hums with something he cannot name, perhaps some new mana granted by Tangaroa for daring to venture where few will not go.

The land they first come to is not too unlike their own. There is greenery and there are people, a remarkable people that themselves in bright colors and speak in tongues he cannot comprehend. He doesn’t learn much of their language because the sounds don’t quite fit inside his mouth, but he learns enough to understand fragments of stories that tell of islands further up the coast. That is when things change. The land becomes red and cracked and dry, rocky and barren, and he cannot comprehend wanting to live in such a place, fascinating though it is. Yet still, there are people who make it their home.

It's not enough. He wants more. A part of him says that there isn’t much more he can find. He shouldn’t need more. He should be content with what he’s found.

To be content is to be complacent, and that is one thing that Fetu will never be again. He wants more, so more he will find, even if he finds himself sailing to his own ruin, to the underworld itself.

There are so many islands. There is so much water. There is so much world, and he eats it up like a starving man, consumes everything he sees with an appetite so ravenous that he cannot see beyond it. There is only the memory of the dream, the promise given to him by the gods (for what else could it have been?) that keeps him going. His companion left long ago, too tired, too homesick, too weak. He found another. And another. New islands and people come and go, new creatures for him to sink his teeth into, new weapons that crave blood like he craves the unknown.

He never looks back.

Why would he when everything he needs is before him?

He is making his own destiny, carving it out of seafoam and sweat and the constant beat of pounamu above his heart, the only piece of home he deemed worthy.

The stars shift a bit, the weather changes again, but it doesn’t become cooler. Now Fetu finds himself sweating more often than he isn’t. Now his own breath feels heavy in his chest and his hair wilts under the weight of the air. His latest companion suggests they stop and rest.

He travels on his own after that, and the rim of the waka has a dent in it from the force of his patu striking through sinew.

He’s so hungry. He’s never been so hungry before, but no food can satisfy it. It keeps him up at night, burns through him during the day and pushes him through every current and storm. He cannot stop. He’s almost afraid of what will happen if he does. All he knows is that he is searching for something and he has no idea what it is. It calls to him all the same.

The dreams return. They crowd his mind when he wakes. They whisper to him, tell him to keep searching, keep clawing his marks into history and if he tries hard enough, children will know stories of the great warrior who traversed the seas and took the world in his hands, made it his.

And then one day, he sees it. The waka from his first dream, the one that stretches into the sky with cloaks full of sea air. The people that guide it are so strange that it almost scares him. Almost. They are pale like corpses, like clouds. (He came from a land of clouds once.) Their words are sharp and harsh, their teeth are yellow, rotting, and their bodies stink. But their eyes spark like fire. Their weapons are unyielding, harder than stone, painful and brutal in a different way than the wood and whale bone and greenstone his people have used for time untold.

Whatever has brought them to him, he is grateful because for the first time in his life, Fetu feels a knowing. This is where he was always meant to be. He holds the thing they call a “pistol” in his hands and senses something awaken deep beneath his ribs the first time he fires it, something that should never have seen the light of day. It marvels at the destruction wrought by a single little pebble and a bit of fire.

Every day, there is something new to learn. Compasses, maps, pistols and sabers, letters and ink and paper, a new language of sounds and ideas that make no sense to him, but he devours it all, swallows it whole. He learns that the curves and lines on the paper spell out his name, mark places they’ve been and places they will go, immortalize the ideas in their heads so they can never forget them. This is how these people tell their stories. He thinks they must have terrible memories, but he learns their ways without hesitation, makes them his own, stitches their knowledge into his very being so that he can travel in ships like theirs and discover riches like gold and diamonds and spices, and he will write the stories that will live on after he dies.

Finally, his dreams are inching toward reality.

There’s no room for nuance in the life that Fetu the Bold the Brave the Great just Fetu has built for himself. Colonies, empires, they matter little to him. What matters most is turning a profit, since that is what gives power in this world beyond the edge of the sea, and profit can be made on any side. Captains and soldiers are eager to find their local resistance blotted out in the middle of the night – unfortunate accidents and animal attacks take the Império Português by storm – and dethroned sultans and disillusioned nobles are more than happy to find a mercenary to defend their homes, their fortunes, their wives for a night.

His ambition takes him far and he take great pride in his achievements, but there comes a time when his ambition fails him. October 31, 1596 – a curious amalgamation of calculations that the Portuguese like to use to mark the passing of time – is an ordinary day. Fetu wakes up and collects payment for a job well done. He stops the client when he sees that his money is short. This one time, he misses the obvious and all his well thought out plans fail him when a sultan’s sword slices through his throat.

The pain is so hot that it goes cold and the disturbingly uncomfortable sensation of blood bubbling out of his body, his esophagus ripping open and his trachea crackling sends him to his knees. Double crossed for the last time.

The only regret that comes to mind when his vision starts to go hazy is that he cannot kill the man who did this to him, who snuffed out his light before he had a chance to properly shine. He was just getting started. There was still… so much… left to see…

October 31, 1596 – Somewhere in Malacca, Malaysia, Portuguese Empire

After all the stories he’d heard as a child, he’d thought that Hawaiki would be… different, somehow. More water, perhaps, and less blood. But then Fetu has a moment of realization. That blood is his, he remembers it pouring out of him. The ground pressed into his cheek is not the ground of Hawaiki, but the earth of a kingdom far from the one he was born to. It stands to reason, then, that Hawaiki is not a literal underworld in some very far away place, but simply a vision of the place where you die, something you are forced to relive over and over again.

Only, he can feel his chest rising and falling. He can see his breath creating clouds in the dirt. He can hear it rasping in his severed throat. Alive. Oh, he does not like that. fingers map out the jagged tear through his body, slick with blood and saliva and shattered, jagged pieces of something he doesn’t know how to name, but it makes him feel sick. He doesn’t want to know what happens if he vomits now, he just needs to get cleaned up. He needs a doctor, he needs a fucking miracle, whatever those damn Portuguese are always going on about in their book of gods and magic.

The trek between the spot of his resurrection and the only strong-stomached person in the city who can stitch him back up is a bit of a blur. Fetu finds it hard to gauge where he’s going half the time because the world feels out of focus and uneven. His hearing has decreased dramatically, too, and his smell and taste – well, he’s no fool, he knows those things may be lost to him forever. It matters not. He’s still alive and he is not giving up, no matter what the world may throw at him to slow him down. He still has a story to write.

He isn’t entirely certain how this story will write itself, though, because his own capabilities have diminished significantly. Even after he recovers and his throat is somehow stitched together into some semblance of not-destroyed, his eyesight doesn’t return to normal, nor does his hearing or even his touch. The world is muted. Colors are less vibrant and music is more muffled, the smells that were once most pleasant to him now smell of nothing at all, and food leaves him feeling incurably ill. What he had assumed was life he now sees for what it truly is – another kind of death that has transformed his surest desires into mere fantasies.

There is no pleasure in the world. And the hunger that once gnawed at his stomach grows until it becomes so insatiable that nothing could ever quench it, not the blood he draws on the battlefield, not the gold he obtains from wealthy fools who crave control, not the finest silks nor the richest feasts, and not even the knowledge and people of the distant lands he once sought.

He joins a crew sailing for the seat of the empire. Good. He wants to leave these scattered islands full of people who remind him of the ones he left behind. He wants something new, something to satisfy the emptiness that lingers in his belly. But the crewmates whisper in the dead of night, say things they think he cannot hear because they assume he’s asleep. He hasn’t slept since the day he died and came back wrong.

“He’s a savage, like all the rest.” This does not surprise him. The Portuguese are a delicate lot, easily offended by anything they do not understand, and he knows the mere lines of his moko are enough to frighten them. “You see his eyes? Half clouded and empty.” “Can’t even look at him, mate, that scar on his neck is damn ugly.” “Maybe he’s a demon.” “Don’t even look alive.” “Like a corpse.”

These things, however, do.

Is he truly such a gruesome sight to behold? He’d never thought about it. For the first time in a long time, Fetu wonders what he looks like. He thinks about the stench of their fear and the hushed insults they would never dare to voice in the light, and he smiles, and it feels like the first smile of his life.

A demon, he muses. A monster. Monsters live on in legends, haunting the living and children’s nightmares, they are immortal and powerful, feared and respected.

The ship docks in a new land dotted with hills and odd structures. Lisboa, they call it. A quick look at a map tells him he is in another world entirely.

Fetu thinks about the things the crewmates whispered through the voyage and he decides that it would be cruel to disappoint them. He leaves the ship with blood staining his wrists and a quiet in his gut that he has not felt in ages.

September 1820 – Sleepy Hollow, New York

Dead leaves skip over cobblestones. The wind, cool and sharp. One of the horses in the pasture whinnies and huffs, shaking its mane. The evening fog is rolling in already and even while the sun is still in the sky.

The weather has been strange of late, oscillating between the warmth of summer and the biting chill of autumn for several weeks. Today seems to be more autumnal in persuasion, with many trees dropping their leaves and the sunlight taking a particular glint, somehow warmer and darker without any physical warmth to show for it. And while you find this time of year to be particularly delightful, you can’t help shaking the feeling that something is different this season, more than any of the others before it.

Perhaps it’s the withered look of the apple trees, or the petrichor in the wind and the lingering smokiness of chimney fires, or maybe it’s the call of the ravens as they flock overhead the woods. Perhaps it’s just a feeling, albeit a bad one; it will pass, like all feelings do, so you choose not to put too much stock into it.

You end your walk with a final visit by the pasture so you can watch the horses, enjoy the calm and quiet of the moment before-

“Miss Atherwood!” “Miss Atherwood!”

Before the children spot you. But that was a fool’s hope.

You turn so your back leans against the fence and spread your arms wide as the children come running toward you. Cora reaches you first, nearly knocking your feet out from under you with the force of her tiny body colliding with yours. Her arms are around your waist in an instant and you hardly have a moment to compose yourself before Moses appears too, running so fast that he’s little more than a blur before he’s buried himself in your arms.

“We missed you!” Cora cries. She tilts her head back to look up at you better, and you catch the little strand of silver-white hair at her temple as she does. “You were gone for ages!”

You smile. “It was hardly a week.”

“A week too long,” Moses decides, very seriously. “This place is boring without you.”

These children warm your heart like nothing else. Never before have you felt so loved and wanted, so entirely at home, not even with your own family. You press a palm to the boy’s cheek first, then Cora’s, and you smile.

“Well, now I’ve returned and we can continue with all our mischief just like before-“

“So that’s where the two o’ ya ran off ta.” Josiah Minor’s honey-sweet Southern twang is like a salve on your heart. He’s just exiting the house further up the path, smiling brilliantly as ever.

You duck your head and whisper a cheeky, “Just so long as your father doesn’t catch on. Now get!”

And off they go, like a pair of young horses at the races, giggling and pushing and yelping, narrowly avoiding knocking their father down simply due to pure dumb luck.

“’s good ta have ya home,” Josiah sighs once he’s pulled you into a hug. It’s rare, these embraces, but you treasure every one he offers. “House just ain’t the same without ya.”

“Believe me, I’ve never been so happy to be back.”

He raises one bushy eyebrow. “That bad?”

“Worse. But it’s better now that I’m here with you and your rascals.”

He seems eager to hear how your venture home went and you tell him some of it, but it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Your grandparents have grown crotchety in their old age, worse now than ever before, and they seem to find fault in everything. They especially find fault in your choice of employment – after all, working under the authority of a former slave is not the sort of appearance they wish to keep up, and it reflects poorly on their choice to adopt you – but you care little for what they deem right and wrong. You’ve only ever known happiness under Josiah’s roof and you intend to stay here for as long as you are needed. Longer, if you can manage it.

Supper that evening is a pleasant affair, full of laughter and delighted exclamations as you tell the children about your travels, the animals you saw along the way, and reveal the gifts you’d chosen for them. Cora adores the little blown glass rabbit you spotted in the market and she chooses to name it “Lula”, although the importance of the name is lost on you. Moses, on the other hand, admires the sketch you made of a Lenape family you passed one day. He’s always been enamored with the original stewards of this land, always eager to learn more about them and their ways, so although this drawing isn’t much, you know it means something to him. And for Josiah, a book you’d gone out of your way to purchase and spent far too much money on, and he almost refuses to take it, but it’s important to you that he does.

“Your wife would want you to take it,” you finally say, softly, no bite or malice but the simplicity of the truth. “She came to mind when I saw it and I thought…”

The book is turned over and over in his hands, but he doesn’t dare to open it. The children lean forward in their seats to see better, and Josiah tilts it toward Moses first to give him the first look.

“’Siddur’. Is this like mother’s siddur, the prayer book?” A coil of his beautiful brown hair falls over his face when he looks up at you.

You nod. “I passed a synagogue on my way home and went in to speak to the rabbi.” Immediately, the children are chattering away, asking you questions about the experience. Not once have they seen a synagogue, they’ve never been outside Sleepy Hollow before. And the last time they saw a rabbi was for Moses’ circumcision – which is to say, such a thing is beyond their comprehension. “I know how much your mother’s means to you, so I thought perhaps a new one that needn’t fear your grubby little paws might be appreciated.” And to Josiah you cast an apologetic glance. “I hope it’s not too forward of me?”

But he smiles. It’s a very sad smile, but there’s happiness there too, a glimmer of hope and love that reminds you of the look he gives Cora when she acts a bit too like her mother. Bittersweet. “Means more ‘n you can guess, Mizz Atherwood.”

The wonderful thing about being a governess in the Minor household is that it simply does not feel like you’re working. Moses and Cora are brilliant pupils who are more often eager to learn than they are not, and they are still of an age where your wisdom and humor tickles them and they choose to include you in their chaos. It’s part of the reason why this house is always so full of laughter. But being employed here has also given you access to all the wonders of elevated class, most notably Josiah’s library.

In his efforts to educate himself and his children, Josiah has collected what you can only assume to be thousands of books, and they cover every subject imaginable. The history of the world, science, philosophy, art, linguistics, maps of foreign lands that you can only dream of, ancient fairy tales and folklore passed down through the generations. You’ve been most enamored with the tales of Scheherazade of late. You wander here when the moon is high and the children are asleep so you may read by firelight, transport yourself to distant kingdoms and times you wish more than anything that you could see yourself. For now, you content yourself with your books.

Only, something catches your eye as you settle into one of the wingbacked chairs near the fire. Something outside.

Everyone in Sleepy Hollow knows better than to go peering outside their window in the dead of night. Local Lenape legends and Old World ghost stories have mingled since the colonies first started, trickling down through each generation until even outsiders like you hear them. There are things in the woods, creatures, things that will look back if you dare to go searching for them.

And so you choose to tug the curtains shut, ensuring that the fabric overlaps so nothing can look in and you cannot look out, but… you do linger. Just for a moment, just long enough to look in the general direction of the thing you thought you saw, whatever it may be.

A chill runs up your spine.

Best to settle by the fire, you tell yourself. The fire is safe. You are safe. Of course you are. You’re simply seeing shadows in the starlight.

It’s awful. It’s worse than awful. There may not even be a word for the pure dread and horror pooling in the pit of your stomach, but the feeling only continues to grow, nameless or not.

The blacksmith was killed last night. Brom Bones. He was a fierce sort of man, tall and broad and always working in the smithy. His eye had been cast in the direction of Katrina Van Tassel for several months now, and the whispers in the town say he had even planned to propose to her.

Your thoughts drift to her rather quickly. It hurts too deeply to dwell on Brom’s fate or on the reality of what his final moments would have been. You hope the news doesn’t hit her too hard, though you certainly wouldn’t blame her if it did. To lose someone so close to you, someone you may well have thought you might spend your life with, is a thought that scarcely bares imagining.

You decide to do something for her. It will keep your mind off things (off the stories the people are telling of the blood on the anvil, the hammers bent in half, the bullet holes in the back of the furnace). While Cora and Moses are working on their impromptu mathematics quiz, you set to work on a condolences note for Katrina. A few roses from along the pasture path are trimmed of their thorns and bundled together with twine. It isn’t much, but it is something and it encourages a slightly more positive outlook on the whole scenario, even if only just.

You don’t notice the prints in the dirt until your walk back to the Minor home. The grass by Brom’s shop is trampled and at first you think this is a result of the earlier chaos that had to have arisen when his body was found. You think this is very logical and applaud yourself on your amateur sleuthing, only to stop in your tracks when you notice tracks that do not match any you have ever seen in town before. They’re boot prints, likely large enough to be a man’s, but the shape is odd, pointed at the toe in a certain way that doesn’t make sense to you. The detail is minute, almost impossible to miss, and you think again that it is something easily explained away. Perhaps someone was called in from out of town to deal with the matter. A doctor or added law enforcement would make the most sense.

But then you see the prints again. They lead to and from Brom’s smithy, you realize, and they follow the path. The path you’re standing on. Your heart skips over itself momentarily until you remember that this path if often walked and by folk other than you. Josiah often takes this route, as do the children and any travelers passing through.

You read too much into it, you tell yourself. This is, by all accounts, believable and logical, but your mind starts to wander the moment you come upon the edge of Josiah’s property and find the prints crossing over it.

A flash of the previous night strikes you then. The thing in the shadows, the thing you thought you saw. You thought it had been nothing more than the fire’s reflection on the glass or your eyes moving too quickly to make sense of the outside world, perhaps a raccoon or squirrel had darted past, and its tail caught a glimmer of moonlight. This is what you told yourself when sleep failed to take you and you tell it to yourself again now, hoping to soothe the anxiety hammering away inside your chest, but your thoughts are racing, and all logic has fled because a man was found dead this morning and the tracks leading to and from his home seem to have followed you.

Everything suddenly feels too hot and too cool all at once. With your heart thundering away as it leaps into your throat, you feel your body go warm, but then the sharp slice of fear pierces your spine and ice-cold panic shoots through your limbs.

The thing outside, what was that thing outside?

What if it was nothing? What if you are simply being paranoid?

A quick breeze drifts across the road and carries with it a few dead leaves. They make a crackling sound as they skip by.

It’s a silly thought. Brought on by a sudden bought of hysteria, no doubt. But still, you wonder. What if the thing you saw was no mere critter, but a… a murderer?

A new day brings with it new clarity, and the shadows that had clouded your mind previously are quickly chased away. The warmth of summer is fading fast and September is in its final moments. Food is starting to need harvesting. Fires are staying lit more consistently. Clouds cover a fair portion of the sky, both night and day.

Rosh Hashanah comes and goes, the Jewish New Year that you help Josiah coordinate so the children may have their celebration even with their mother long buried. Yom Kippur comes soon after, not nearly as solemn as you’re sure it’s meant to be, but they are young and Josiah doesn’t have it in him to bring sadness back into his home after the losses they’ve all suffered.

Studies are not put on hold necessarily, but they are somewhat reigned in to allow for other things like afternoon harvesting and cider making, the drying of corn husks for use in crafts you intend to teach them later in the month. Apples are peeled and cooked into cobblers, sliced and drizzled with honey and cinnamon, squashes cut open for stews and mashes. The house begins to smell like autumn and even though the days become shorter with each sunset, there is still a dazzling light that illuminates the Minor household.

And then suddenly it doesn’t.

Because Johannes Van Tassel is found dead. His throat cut, a bullet to the temple, the same as Brom. All while his daughter, Katrina, slept. Rumors start to fly. Gossip cuts hot and quick, and everyone believes their own spin of the tale to be the most likely. All you know is that you may likely retch on your own shoes if you hear one more person speak of it.

You and Josiah try not to let the children overhear the whispers. “They’ve known too much death already,” he tells you, and you understand. After witnessing their mother’s passing before the age of ten, it terrifies you both how cruel and violent the outside world can be. They are still so small, so little and innocent. It would break your heart to see them lose that innocence too soon.

So Bones and Van Tassel’s deaths are simplified for younger ears, lacking any of the gruesome details you have heard on your walks through town. They are told not to be afraid, to stay indoors once the sun goes down, and that you and their father will keep them safe. They have nothing to worry about.

But death is fixated on Sleepy Hollow. With Van Tassel’s passing, something turns up dead every morning. Livestock are left in their pastures with snapped or slashed through necks, travelers passing through are found mutilated outside the inn, townsfolk begin to disappear, picked off one by one, and no one can understand why.

Sleepy Hollow descends into chaos as primitive fear takes hold of every heart and mind. People begin leaving precious jewels, the best sections of their harvest, coins, anything and everything laid out before their homes in the hope that the demon who stalks the streets will overlook them. The church benches are filled to overflowing every day. Guards are stationed at key crossroads, the mayor’s house, the infirmary, the Van Tassel residence, and still every morning another man is found dead, his throat cut through.

The curtains of the Minor’s home are drawn shut during the day. You do not look outside once dusk has fallen, you do not dare to dwell on the image of the thing you saw those weeks ago. You do not search for strangely shaped boot prints. You do not watch the horses in the pasture. You do not leave the house.

And as All Hallow’s Eve approaches, you find yourself falling victim to your own panic and paranoia. Josiah gives you a pistol. You acquire a butcher knife from the kitchen and keep it close to your bed. The children do not sleep well and Cora has taken to crawling into bed with you at night. Moses says he’s not afraid of anything, supernatural or not, but you know he is. You catch him sneaking out of his father’s room on more than one occasion, early in the morning before the servants are awake.

For the first time in a long time, you pray. You don’t want to die, nor do you want the children to be frightened. You want them to live long and prosperous lives, happy and content and full of hope. You fear this is a dream that will never come to pass.

And then one night you wake to smoke and fire.

October 31, 1820 – Midnight

Everything is ablaze. Brom Bones’ smithy is nearly burnt to the ground, the Van Tassel residence is smoking and the women inside are screaming, and Crane is dead. Still, he feels nothing. There is no pleasure in the death he deals, no pleasure in the screams of the burned and dying. But there is blood on his boots and across his chest plate, and that could be enough. He thinks that if he soaks himself in enough blood, he may yet feel something stir in the cold, dark pit of his belly.

He marches on. There aren’t many men left of a strong build and capable age – he saw to that already – so his journey through the sleepy little village is an easy one. What few do attempt to challenge him are cut down quickly, cut through the throat. Always the throat. The ones that get back up again receive a bullet to keep them down.

A girl goes stumbling into his path, her eyes wide and frightened, hair loose around her shoulders. He thinks she begs him for mercy, begs him to take her at the cost of sparing her home. And he finds it strange how this brings heat into his body like carnage has yet to do, but it’s not the heat of lust that clouds his mind. The heat of anger stirs him, pure and righteous fury at the audacity to assume he could be bought for such a price. His knife cleaves through her ribs easily and when she falls, whimpering and crying as blood bubbles between her fingers and her yellow hair goes pink, Django feels alive again. Not by much, not enough to be tricked into thinking that his mortality has been restored, but enough that he feels human again for the most fleeting of moments.

So that’s what he needs. In all his years, he has never craved a woman, although he has known a few. His mind was always set on other sights. But now he thinks he may understand what it means to desire one, not for the sweetness of what lays between her thighs but for the sickly sight of her mouth agape in horror.

His attention flickers then to the house just up the path, the one beyond the blacksmith’s shop. He remembers a woman there, young, pretty enough, remembers her face in the window, her body wrapped up in a cloak as she traced the steps he took from Bones’ shop and across her land, back into the forest. Out of the entire town, she’s the one that’s come the closest to finding the truth. It will be good to kill her. The perfect ending to his scourge upon this town.

He's hardly conscious of the carnage he leaves in his wake, or how he breaks through the barricaded door, the servants shrieking and trembling in the corners of each room. He pays them no mind. All he sees is her, you, fuzzy and half shapeless in the back of his mind, but he will know you when he sees you.

The room he finds you in is simple, plain, sparsely furnished, but he spots you easily enough. Cowering between your bed and the wall, a pistol against your breast. There are shadows behind you that he can’t make out, strangely shaped things that rustle like little kits hiding behind their mother in a storm.

All he sees is you.

What remains of his vision is tunneled and fixated on you, your eyes, how wide they are, how the sparse rays of moonlight catch your irises. His boots are loud and heavy in this room. Your chest rises and falls as he steps closer. His fingers begin to twitch, eager to lift his blade and slice through your flesh, hoping, pleading, desperate for relief. He doesn’t know if he’s the one pleading or if you are.

The sound of a pistol firing takes him by surprise, for surely he hasn’t fired his prematurely? But then the dull ache of something lodged in his shoulder tells him otherwise. He turns.

This man reminds him of something, someone. He cares not who or what it is. He cares not for this man and the smoking gun in his hands. A quick flourish of his wrist is enough to topple him, and so he turns back to you.

His heart no longer beats, but he thinks he hears the ghost of it now as he advances. This is it. This is the moment he has been dying and living for. Your blood will be the answer. It must be. He raises his hand and-

“No!”

Time has not stood still for Django since the day he died, but it pauses itself in this moment. Long enough for him to see the whites of your eyes. Your teeth are bared. You’re screaming. Your pistol is smoking, and his sternum feels shattered. And this time you advance upon him, a knife brandished in your other hand as you scream and scream, and when you move, the shadows behind you are illuminated. The knife flies, buries itself in the crook of his arm when he raises it, and it hits him with enough force to make him stumble. But what brings him to his knees are the shadows, the children.

224 years have passed since he first died. Even more have come and gone since he left Aotearoa, his iwi, his tamariki. He didn’t even realize he still remembered the words. 224 years and he still finds that he would know them anywhere.

He sees Omeka curled into a ball and crying, though she’s trying to be brave. He would know that face anywhere. The wide brown eyes, so kind, so wise, the dark hair streaked with silver, the mark upon her temple that she was born with. He sees Poa, still just a boy, not yet a man, sees his lip snarl and curl, those little teeth bared and flashing against his dark skin, the big brown locks of hair Django still remembers grooming for him.

And then he sees you. Your weapons are spent, you have nothing, yet still you stand before his children like a warrior. You will not let him harm them; he knows this. You will give your life in defense of theirs.

The tamariki are shaking. Poa is crying now, but he hovers over his sister like a kaitiaki. He is proud of what they have become, proud they are his, yet all he feels now is shame. For how far has he fallen? To draw blood from an innocent woman, to loom above innocent children like a warmonger, to crave the fleeting flickers of their heartbeats as if their blood would fill the empty hole inside him? His people have not been above the consuming of flesh before, and it would be so easy. It was so easy; it has been for years. To take thoughtlessly, to kill every time he felt alive and every time he didn’t, to let the blood of his victims sink beneath his skin so it became a part of him. Yet sitting between your four walls, covered in gore and rattling with an anger so fierce that it threatens to burn him alive, he finds that this one time, it is not so easy to take.

He runs.

He’s never run before. He did not run from home, he left it behind when it no longer served him. He did not run from his past, but chase after the future, the promises the gods whispered in his head. Django has never run, neither did Fetu. But here in this village on the edge of the map, in this country built on blood and theft and desperation, both halves of him turn tail and run.

All the while, he sees their faces. The Poa he raised himself and the Poa he found under your protection flicker back and forth, morphing together so their faces become one. Both Omeka’s do the same. He cannot tell where his tamariki start and yours end.

He remembers the men he voyaged with, from Malaysia to Portugal, the ones who had convinced themselves he was a monster, the moment he convinced himself that he would become one. He remembers the sultan who took his life and the faceless, nameless doctor who stitched him back together. He remembers the face of every person who has met their fate at the end of his blade or his pistols.

He remembers the blood. So much blood. He recalls desperate nights where he licked his hands clean, hoping it would reinvigorate him, start up his heart anew, trigger the breath that once stirred in his lungs. That is what he had hoped for here, though he hadn’t fully realized it then. He had only wanted to feel something, anything. Just once more.

He can certainly feel now. He feels the burn of bile as he dry heaves inside his helmet. He rips it off and his head goes tumbling through the grass, and it hits him, stronger than any wave or weapon, exactly what it is he has become.

Django wishes he could die. He wishes more than anything that he had never been cursed with this half-life, that he had never dreamt of the worlds beyond his and chased after them like a child chasing after its mother. He was a fool. He is a fool.

He thinks of Omeka’s face and his body retches, even while his head is still detached. The world is out of focus, blurry, and his senses are so dull that he can’t feel a thing beyond the queasy rumblings of his gut. The shame.

taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @multi-fan-dom-madness @deejadabbles @rain-on-kamino @wings-and-beskar

#jango fett x reader #jango fett x you #halloween au #headless horseman au #star wars #jango fett #x reader #yes there are more parts to come!!#at least 1 more if not 2. we shall see what the final edits yield

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