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captxin-rex · 7 months

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Honeyyyyyy🥰

congratulations on hitting 4000 followers! Thats huge! Honestly, no one deserves it more than you. Thank you for all the wonderful things you have requested throughout the years💕

I would like to request a Jesse x Fem!Reader, where reader gets discharged from a lengthy hospital stay and gets to go home, where her partner Jesse picks her up and takes her home and cares for her. Its a very self indulgent request i must admit. It can be sfw/suggestive or nsfw if you like, but mostly i‘d love some caregiver!jesse 🥺

ilysm 💕🌸🪷

Relief

Jesse X F!Reader

word count: 781

After being discharged from hospital, Jesse shows you just how much he missed, cares and loves you.

warnings: 16+ as there is implied sexual content but nothing explicit. female reader, mentions of hospital visits and reader having a bad autoimmune system, slight angst but fixed with lots of fluff and comfort. Established relationship.

Authors note: thank you for the support always bestie. Enjoy, sorry it’s a little on the shorter side. ily 💜

After what felt like an endless cycle of blurred days and nights, the comfort of home beckoned. Your autoimmune condition had warranted an extended stay at the hospital, and although the memories of long hours and less-than-stellar meals lingered, there was a beacon of hope waiting for you on the other side.

You had been with Jesse for just over a year now and never had you been so lucky. He was the perfect blend of kindness, humor, and of course - undeniable good looks. So, it wasn't surprising to find him eagerly waiting for you in the lobby, his foot rhythmically tapping the floor. But when his eyes met yours, any signs of impatience melted away, replaced with a beaming smile.

"There’s my girl," he greeted with a joyous grin, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on your cheek.

Mustering a weary yet content smile, you replied, "Here I am." Your smile widened in delight as he gracefully unveiled a bouquet of your favourite flowers from behind his back. "Oh, Jesse," you murmured, "you really didn't have to."

"No," he smirked, arm confidently linking with yours, guiding you as he flagged down a cab, "but it made me happy to."

With a content sigh, you both settled into the taxi, heading towards the sanctuary of your home. The mere idea of being enveloped in the soft embrace of your own bed was enough to make you feel more relaxed. Jesse's eyes were fixed on you, tenderly observing the visible signs of your exhaustion. But, he was smart enough not to voice his observations. Instead, he pulled you closer, letting you nestle into his side for the duration of the ride.

A short while later, the familiar setting of your home welcomed you. Stepping inside, you inhaled deeply, reacquainting yourself with its comforting aroma. Overwhelmed by the warmth and familiarity, you sank into your couch, releasing a sigh that echoed your longing. "I've missed this so much," you murmured, gazing up at the ceiling. As your gaze wandered, a realisation dawned. The place was spotless. Not a single trace of dust to be seen anywhere.

Catching your surprised expression, Jesse chuckled, "Thought I'd do a bit of tidying up."

Your laughter joined his as relief washed over you. The realisation that he'd taken it upon himself to do every little chore that was pending made your heart flourish.

From the laundry to the dishes, from taking out the trash to scrubbing that stubborn grout in the kitchen sink you'd been meaning to tackle – everything was done.

"Jesse," you whispered, admiration and affection swelling within you. Although you two didn’t share a home, mostly due to Jesse's commitments with the GAR, seeing the lengths he'd gone to care for your space during your hospital stay only deepened the bond between you.

Jesse's face lit up with a touch of pride as he then pointed towards the fridge. "I also prepped some meals for you." He admitted with a sheepish grin, "Though, I won't guarantee they're gourmet quality – cooking isn't exactly my specialty." His hand instinctively went to the back of his head, a gesture he often made when slightly embarrassed.

“Anything would be better than the dirt they serve in there.” You shudder at the cold gruel you were offered.

Overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness, you responded, "I can't begin to express my gratitude." He settled down beside you on the couch, wrapping an arm around you protectively.

"You could start by resting and taking it easy," he said with a playful smirk, his lips gently brushing your temple. His fingers began to work magic as he moved them into your hair, massaging your scalp and making you sink further into his embrace.

"That sounds perfect right now," you admitted, stifling a yawn as relief washes over you. Curling even closer to him, you whispered, "I love you."

"And I love you," he replied, ensuring both of you were covered with a throw blanket before starting a holomovie, the volume just low enough to be comforting. Cherishing moments like these was essential because they were so rare.

That evening, Jesse managed to whip up a surprisingly delicious meal. The two of you shared stories and laughter, catching up on all the happenings you missed while you were away. And as the night grew deeper, he effortlessly lifted you, a hint of mischief in his eyes, and carried you off to bed. Even as passion ignited between the two of you, kisses turning into heated dances and breathing turning into soft moans, Jesse's touch remained gentle. And his whispers held promises and love that saw you through the night.

Oh, how you missed him.

Requests open until the 15th of October 2023 ☀️

Kofi 🧋

Masterlist

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix

#nsfw #16+#star wars fanfiction

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captxin-rex · 7 months

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🎃spooky papa🎃

Please do not use without permission, and please do not repost on other sites! ❤️

@eyecandyeoz @whatawonderfulexistence--blog @ramblingoak @jumpcauseimfroggy @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe I hope I didn’t miss anyone!!! 🩷🥰

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captxin-rex · 7 months

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Happy Tech Tuesday

ID: A flat colored, lightly shaded digital sketch of my beloved blorbo dressed as a mad scientist in a lab coat and captivatingly shiny latex/rubber gloves to fit with the Inktober prompt for this week. 🎃 He's really examining his specimen... 😏

This is the first of many gift drawings I will be rolling out for different various mutuals as xmas rapidly approaches. I'll be posting as I finish them(because I can't wait until xmas to show anyone) and then I will put them all in a master post when the holiday actually arrives! To all to my beloved besties, this is my way to show my undying gratitude. You make my little corner of this hellsite really wonderful. And don't worry about being naughty or nice. As long as you're my friend, I know we're naughty af together. 😈

@hurtbywhisperedmuses, pls enjoy this gift.😊🥰 Merry (early) Christmas 🎁🎄 And Happy Tech Tuesday!

Digital Art Masterlist - Commission Me ✨ - My Rates

Tech Art Masterlist

If you like this, consider getting one for yourself! Commissions are open and live on my Kofi or simply send me a DM!☑️

Taglist: @captxin-rex @gospelofme @fangirl-goes-nova @romanoffs-gf @itsjml @sstarwarsss @r2d2staser @nahoney22 @ashotofspotchka @art-of-the-twistedstitcher @only-a-simp-deals-in-absolutes @justalittletomato @twiggoblin @xsherryberryx @kriffclone @mustluvecho @deewithani @tinker-tech @megafrost4 @minx067 @storm89 @freesia-writes @boontaeveboba @ahoeformando @arctrooper69 @taz-107 @lizzowinkyface @chad-something @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @merkitty49 @nonsenseandm3mes @by-the-primes @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @succulent-momma @virtualexpertanchor @padawancat97 @amorfista @hurtbywhisperedmuses @misogirl828 @seriowan @plushymiku-blog @the-dathomirian-jedi @ladykatakuri @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @mysticalgalaxysalad @dukeoftheblackstar @talesfrommedinastation @littlecrowtime

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captxin-rex · 7 months

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Chapter 11 - Rocinante Part 2

Pairing: Tech x Belter!OC x Crosshair Warnings apply to current and or future chapters as well: angst, fluff, language, adult situations, death mention, slow burn romance, astrophobia & nyctophobia, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, canon-typical violence, medical complications, space terminology. Summary: Their message is sent through Ring space following blockade’s decommissioning, but UN’s hypervigilance of airspace around Medina Station provokes unwanted interest. Author’s Note: Thank you all who have held on since the very beginning! If you made it this far, I am giving you an honorary kiss on the forehead for your wonderfulness. This concludes the first part of Paradigm Shift, and more chapters will resume after the new year as I will be busy (like many others) with festivities! I hope everyone has a wonderful time over the holiday season! I cannot thank you enough for keeping up with my silly little words! Hugs and kisses and love for you, dear reader, for a trillion years!!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) (*≧▽≦))(￣▽￣* )ゞ Happy Tech Tuesday!!!

Paradigm Shift Masterlist - 3.5k words

Main Masterlist - Read on Wattpad & Ao3

{VARIOUS OVERLAPPING NEWS FEEDS: The flood of colony ships from the Inner Planets is growing with each passing day, spreading humanity beyond the confines of the solar system in a diaspora unprecedented in the history of the species. - Homelessness on Earth is at its all-time record low. Thanks to Nancy Gao’s initiative, funding colonies into the Ring gate, a surge in job openings has created new opportunities for all. - It’s boom times for the OPA and the Belters on Medina Station, the only port inside the Ring space. In several colonies, massive corporate mining operations are underway, extracting precious minerals and creating vast new fortunes for colonists. - With more protomolecule ruins being discovered on Ilus, scientists and archaeologists continue to speculate about the functions of these ancient machines, as well as what incredible power could have wiped out the Builders, a hyper intelligent ancient alien race, seemingly in an instant.}

“Whoa…” Omega gasps as the different news stories fade into background noise. She sees the wide range of commercial vessels flocked around awaiting their turn for entry, and then the Ring structure itself. “That’s where we came from?”

“And we’re about to go back through it?” Wrecker answers Omega with another question, adding to the bewildered confusion.

“Tech and I have been listening to the feeds and it seems like that’s what everyone’s doing here.” Hunter adds his input from where he sits next to Tech with Echo and Wrecker in the remaining two seats, Omega in Wrecker’s lap. “It’s crazy how quickly people’s ideologies can be swayed.”

“Just like home.” Echo scoffs with a shake of his head in disgust. “First they were terrified. And now it’s like a tourist attraction.”

“It’s alright, Echo.” Omega tells him, calming his nerves. “Maybe all these people here will add to our camouflage.”

“Well first, we have to see if we can get a message out to someone we know to ensure that we would be returning the way we came and not somewhere else entirely.” Tech slows the Vestis to a halt, powering down the thrusters to keep it idle until he’s decided what to do next.

He takes his data pad out and uses an adapter cord to link it to the main terminal where he begins typing rapidly. It’s far too fast for Emalia to keep up with, even with her knowledge of their alphabet. Emalia grows skeptical. “Wait, we don’t even know if they’ve set up a relay in your world yet.”

“They don’t have to. I am close enough to the station to boost our own signal through the gate. Any relays that are familiar with our own will automatically be capable of receiving a signal. Now…” Tech trails off, concentrating. “I just have to pinpoint the strongest receiver and send it to that system.”

“How long is it gonna take to find one?” Wrecker asks.

“Done!” Tech announces with a few confident taps on his terminal.

“That was fast!” Omega jumps from Wrecker’s lap with excitement.

“Where’s the ping?” Echo asks, desperate to know.

Tech turns a few more knobs, hits a couple more buttons and a set of calibrated results appear on the screen. “Gordian Reach.”

“Isn’t that Yavin 4?”

“That’s precisely the relay.” Tech responds to Echo, adjusting his goggles as he reads the screen. “There is history of other signals, but they stopped transmitting many cycles ago. This is the only one still active.”

“What’s on Yavin?” Omega interjects.

“It’s an established rebel headquarters.” Echo explains. “Maybe we could get a hold of Rex there?”

“If not him, someone definitely on our side that can help us reach him.” Hunter agrees. “Transmit the message, Tech. It’s our only chance.”

“If what the news is saying is true, this might work after all.” Emalia steps closer to the windows to get a better look at the ring. “We might be able to actually get out of here.”

“So, have you decided?” Omega tugs on Emalia’s sleeve.

“Decided what?” She asks, confused.

“If you’re going to come with us or help your people on Ilus.”

Emalia thinks for a while, then kneels down on one knee to reach Omega’s level. She can see the others closing in via her peripherals, interested in her answer. “Don’t be silly. You’re my people now, setara mali.”

~ ~ ~

The protomolecule activity on Ilus has been rendered inert and the settlers deem the planet safe for colonization and scientific analysis on a grander scale. The Barbapiccola survives its stint there after many setbacks, and with the help of the Rocinante, they escort the vessel as well as all their harvested ore from the planet back through the Ring to be sold with all proceeds going towards Belter relief efforts. In the happy reception of all this up looking news, unbeknownst to Emalia, their transmission was heard not only by their friends in a system far, far away, but it was screened through asteroid spotters known as the U.N. Sentinel Satellites and their accompanying Watchtowers lining the defense perimeter of the system. It was filed as a possible threat due to its heavy encryption and foreign language. In addition to scanning the cosmos for wandering celestial masses that could possibly collide with the Inner Planets, it receives a wide array of comm chatter throughout the space. Chrisjen Avasaral, General-Secretary of the United Nations, is notified at the first hint of abnormality as she’s made it a point to babysit Medina Station after the terrorist, Marco Inaros, was announced to be still at large with a ten-million-dollar bounty on his head.

Just when the Roci is fully repaired and everyone has had time to settle their own affairs, James Holden gets word of this strange transmission through Avasarala, and she expresses her vehement interest in tracking down the source of this message, and if it is an Inaros faction ship or if it’s a more complex matter altogether. Despite Holden having just dealt with the chaotic business on Ilus, he’s now being pulled in all directions by every faction for his expertise of this advanced technology and species that only he harbors the answers for. His name follows a rally cry of inspiration that jump started the desire to discover the Ring Systems in the first place. He’s often the first choice to spearhead any operation having to do with the unknown, and this most certainly fits the qualifications.

As ordered, he gathers his crew and makes his way back towards the Ring to investigate.

~ ~ ~

“How long is it going to take for someone to respond to us?” Wrecker groans, getting impatient after idly waiting for something to happen for the past few hours. In all this thrilling anticipation to go through the Ring, they’ve put their armor back on, no longer wearing the textile uniform jumpsuits. The unknown motives of the people around them reverts their mindsets to be more proactive in case anything happens. Emalia has likewise put on her spacesuit as well, a learned habit she’s adopted every time she goes into orbit.

“Probably a while. There’s bound to be a reasonable amount of delay, even when dealing with ordinary light years within a single system.” Echo discloses to Wrecker, seated in the copilot’s chair with his back to the transparisteel windows.

“This is exciting! I wonder who we’ll hear back from!” Omega jumps up and down, her hands balled into fists and waving in a tight motions below her chin.

“Tech, how certain are you that no one else received the transmission?” Crosshair asks, skeptical of Tech’s confidence in his work when the sensor array begins to repeatedly beep, getting faster by the second.

“Fairly certain.” Tech is pacing about the hull, one arm folded over his plastoid chest plate, the other clutching his chin in thought. “Granted, there are many variables that I can’t possibly account for as I don’t know the standard procedures of surveillance in this system, but the signal emitted from our transponder reads as if it were sent from Medina Station itself.”

“Then why is there a ship currently headed in our direction?” Crosshair snaps back, trying to control his uneasiness. “Rather quickly, I might add.”

Crosshair stands and lets Tech take control, everyone else huddling about to try and see who could possibly be in a hot pursuit to their location. Then, just before Tech can manage to power up the engines again, the familiar chirp of being hailed drones through the deafening silence in the ship. Tech glares at the illuminated button, blinking a couple times in disbelief at his misstep. “Perhaps sending it in Aurebesh was a slight… error in my judgment.”

“Let me answer it!” Emalia lunges forward, filing in front of Tech as she hovers over the control panel. Tech’s eyebrows raise as he makes himself scarce, pushing himself as far into the chair’s upholstery as he can, gulping loud enough for Emalia to hear.

[Incoming Transmission]

James Holden: Who are you and what business do you have with the Ring?

[Outgoing Transmission]

Emalia Chatham: We plan to go through for a fresh start, like anybody else.

[Incoming Transmission]

James Holden: Civilians are not permitted to transmit messages through the Ring space without proper authorization or security clearance. Both of which, we know you don’t have.

[Outgoing Transmission]

Emalia Chatham: S-sorry. My apologies. I have friends on Ilus and wanted to see if I could get a hold of them.

[Incoming Transmission]

James Holden: Either decrypt your message for us or prepare to be boarded and taken in for questioning. We know it was not sent to Ilus.

[Outgoing Transmission]

Emalia Chatham: Wait a second here! We haven’t done anything but send a message! As far as I know, that’s not illegal.

[Incoming Transmission]

James Holden: It is when there’s a known OPA terrorist at large and the timing of your correspondence is eerily too close to the recent attack on Earth. Unless you prove otherwise, we have reason to believe you’re collaborating with a fugitive. Now, decrypt this message or we will have no choice but to board and take everyone in for questioning.

[Outgoing Transmission]

Emalia Chatham: Attack on Earth? This is the first I’m hearing of it. I swear to you, it was just an experimental little cipher that my friends and I invented. We’re completely harmless.

[Incoming Transmission]

James Holden: “You really think it’s a good idea to test your coding skills at a time like this? We are relinquishing your flight controls. Prepare to be boarded.”

“What do we do?!” Omega starts to panic when the audio cuts out and she sees Tech fight with his own helm, unable to alter the steering or even power up the grav drive for a hasty escape. Rattling about the exterior, a docking shaft can be heard securing itself over the hatch just below their feet, muffled sounds of air hissing outside as the area is pressurized.

“Don’t do anything irrational.” Hunter fortifies his stance alongside the others, all of them conducting armament checks as their soldier habits are revived after laying dormant for so long. “We can still talk things through.”

“Hrmph… We’ll see about that.” Wrecker dares, calibrating his DC-17m rifle.

“We’re not shooting anybody!” Emalia shouts. “Please, keep your weapons holstered and set to stun until I talk to them. They can’t hear us out if they’re dead.”

“Omega, go to your room and stay there until I say it’s clear.” Echo orders her sternly.

“But I want to help!” She cries, energy bow at the ready.

“That’s an order, soldier!” Hunter can hear the pressurization outdoors coming to a close. It’s only a matter of time until the hatch is opened against their will. They don’t have a second to waste. “Please, Omega. For me.”

Omega makes note of the pain, not anger, in Hunter’s voice. She knows he doesn’t want to be separated from her again, so she complies with his wishes and hides behind the curtain at the top of the ladder after retrieving one of the safety respirators just in case. She looks out the window and can manage to see part of the ship that’s now docked with them, pondering their intentions.

Crosshair is the first to put his helmet on. Echo sees this and mirrors his initiative followed by Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker with Emalia pulling her face panel down and calibrating it with her air tank. It’s a rather small hatch, only a few feet in diameter. However, Emalia and her clone force have the temporary advantage as they’re able to stare directly down and into the path of whoever wishes them to board.

“Let’s make some room.” Hunter pushes everyone back as the seal is broken and the port’s door shifts over to initiate this first contact. With the ship’s drive powered down, it partially drops the gravity in the hull and Emalia has to depend on her magnetic boots to keep herself upright. “Show them we mean no harm.”

Three men in heavily militarized black armor suits stare back at them through their face shields with guns raised. The person leading speaks first and Emalia recognizes his voice and moves to the forefront of the group. “Keep those hands raised and walk through to the platform. Then tell us the faction you align with. Now.”

“We’re our own faction!” Wrecker instigates things from behind her, seeing their show of unified force as nothing more than an intimidation tactic as she’s caught in the middle. “We’re not scared of anyone!”

“Wrecker, shut it!” Crosshair angrily scolds him through his teeth with his hands up, following orders as each of them step out onto the stabilized walkway.

“Don’t make me use this on you, Dumbo.” One of the three men bitterly challenges.

“Bull, now’s not the time.” The leader of the group tells his associate and Emalia makes note of his voice as the same one who talked with her over comms, deducing that he is James Holden.

“Hey, I’m not dumb!” Wrecker is one bad insult away from reaching for his blaster as his patience is wearing thin with these unknown individuals threatening his family.

“That’s enough!” Holden steps forward alongside Emalia in the line of fire to get a better look at the group. Their armor and weapons are unrecognizable and it was only Emalia’s Tycho issue space suit that at first disarmed them into believing they were dealing with a band of rogue Belters. “Just… tell us your faction already so that nobody gets hurt.”

“I’m from Ceres. All of us are.” Emalia lies. Though, it is true to some extent, having just come from there, but how could she possibly get into the fact that she’s harboring real life human clones from an alien system?

“We have no faction.” Echo level headedly testifies as well. “We’re just trying to leave this world to start again.”

“She wasn’t lying when she told you that over comms.” Hunter chimes in to corroborate their claims. “We don’t know anything about an attack on Earth.”

“You don’t keep up on current events, do you?” The third man asks with a shake of his head.

“Only the things we can do anything about.” Crosshair responds, assured with his reasoning.

“Our friend was just assassinated after a sample of the protomolecule was stolen from his own living quarters.” Bull, the one that had insulted Wrecker, argues back with a charge of his gun. “All this while coordinated asteroid strikes decimate Earth with the potential to plunge the entire planet into a modern ice age. You expect us to believe this is a coincidence? Your message is transmitted at the same time these rocks fell?”

“I think they get the point, man.” The third, heftier man of the two adds a bit of dry humor to the situation to ease the strain of everyone’s nerves.

“I promise, we don’t know anything about this.” Emalia continues to negotiate.

“Then explain these characters.” Holden lowers his gun to retrieve his hand terminal with a transcript of the message. “There’s no trace of this language being used among Earthers, Martians or even Belters.”

“Uhh… Like I said before.” Emalia’s ruse is fading and she’s unsure how much longer she can prolong the inevitable. “Think of it as an inside joke that only close family and friends know.”

“I thought we already went over the fact that you don’t have people on Ilus.” Holden cross examines Emalia’s choice of words. “And we have the coordinates your message reached. Medina Station doesn’t have a relay in that system yet. What is so important in this message that it had to be sent so far away?”

Emalia’s crew falls silent, but Tech steps forward, putting Emalia behind himself. “If we tell you, we’ll need assurances.”

“You’re not in any position to make demands here!” Bull objects loudly, offended that Tech has the gall to request an oath of safeguard, his rifle whining in preparation to be fired.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Wrecker warns, reaching for his blaster but the unnamed man stops him by clicking the safety off his own rifle, pointing it at him as well.

“Might want to rethink that, buddy.” The unnamed man warns.

“Watch yourself, big guy.” Crosshair has him in his sights, waiting for him to try something.

“Amos, do not exacerbate things!” Holden attempts to simmer things down, putting a moniker to this third person, but Wrecker is sick of these people thinking they can strongarm anyone to get what they want. He manages to raise his rifle to fire a few shots while it’s still set to stun and Bull tries to reciprocate fire, but Emalia lunges for his gun before it can discharge, knowing their ammunition isn’t so forgiving. She takes the paralyzing rounds head on, her dead weight causing Bull to fumble with his gun, rendering him unable to fire.

Amos realizes the rounds Wrecker’s gun emitted are non-lethal and initiates close quarters combat with him, Bull shoving his gun as well as Emalia’s body out of the way and into Holden nearby before Holden could even say a word. Echo, Crosshair and Hunter enter a scuffle with Bull and Amos, Holden moving Emalia further down the docking platform out of the way of harm. They argue amongst themselves, various grapples being broken, and punches being landed as they try to pry Bull and Amos away from Wrecker.

This platform is not meant for such intense movement. The integrity of the pressurized seals surely remains at risk if they keep going like this. “Stop! The chamber will fail!” Tech announces with an alarmed austerity.

“Are you working with Marco Inaros or not?!” Bull resists, still grappling between Amos and the other clones.

“We don’t even know who this Inaros person is!” Echo tries to reason with them as well, all the while Tech is watching, trying to think of a way to put an end to this madness. He scours his memory for resources and is reminded of a time when speaking in another language had saved them before.

“Im da sheng!” He shouts, heavily enunciated like a true native. Tech is pleased to see that his powerful yet unexpected remark in Lang Belta is enough to get through to them.

Holden pushes past the group, separating the armored bodies from one another, advancing swiftly towards Tech practically knocking his face shield into Tech’s scout helmet. “Those words. Why do you know them?”

“I was taught.” Tech admits as everyone watches the pivotal exchange.

“Who taught you?” Holden asks, familiarized with the language by his own significant other.

“Her.” Tech points to Emalia’s still frame a couple yards away, still out cold. “They’re her words. Just as I taught her the language of our world. The world we sent the message to.”

“Your world?” Holden infers what he feared to be true. “If you’re not Belters, then where are you from?”

“You fight like Belters, that’s for sure.” Bull remarks, stretching various sore limbs from superficial bruises he sustained from the altercation.

“Tech, what did you tell them?” Hunter asks, wanting to know what he shouted.

“It’s the truth.” Holden translates before Tech could respond, more for himself than anyone else. “Naomi, has taught me a few phrases in our time together.”

“So, what, are you guys like aliens or something?” Amos blurts and Wrecker grimaces at him, unamused.

“If that’s what you prefer to call us.” Omega hollers from the circular docking port, her little voice slightly distorted by the precautionary respirator she strategically secured to her face before entering the space. “I prefer to think of us as explorers!”

“Omega, I told you to stay put!” Hunter calls to her such as any guardian would, but she doesn’t listen, moving herself through the passageway and into the docking shaft.

“A child?” Holden gasps. “Everyone stand down. There’s a goddamn kid on board!”

“What did you do to her?!” Omega disbands all prior concerns and introductions and moves towards Emalia, Crosshair and Tech following closely behind with Hunter, Echo and Wrecker forming a perimeter of protection around them.

“It’s quite alright, Omega.” Tech says as he scans her body. “She’s just momentarily incapacitated.”

“Yeah, because of Wrecker.” Crosshair shuffles the blame onto him, and Wrecker forlornly strikes his face with his hefty palm.

“I know… I’m sorry.” He apologizes. “I just got ahead of myself.”

“Regardless, there’s no way we’re going to let any of you go now.” Holden taps a few buttons on his hand terminal and the hatch to the Vestis is resealed with towing extensions deployed across its hull. The group casts worried glances between their only escape being blocked and the three men they have had the displeasure of meeting. “We have too many questions left unanswered. We’re taking everyone aboard the Rocinante and back to Medina Station with us.”

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captxin-rex · 7 months

Text

Commander Fox + Mercenary!Reader

As a mercenary, you travel in and out of Coruscant a lot. You find it more than a little strange that Commander Fox himself always seems to be on the Coruscant Guard team investigating your transport when you come back planetside...

Commander Fox x gn!reader (platonic-ish, with a hint toward future feelings)

Thanks to @nowait-whathappened for the prompt!

Word Count: 3.4k words

Warnings: mentions of weapons, mentions of bodily injuries, implied lack of trust

Masterlist

---

“Transport 47816, prepare for boarding.”

The groans that echoed through the transport ship were instant and harsh. None of the familiar faces around you held an expression more pleasant than ‘irritation’, but you were well used to this by now.

“Why?” Kann bit out harshly. You tried not to roll your eyes, but it was a close thing. As the Lament’s near-constant pilot, Kann knew exactly why you were being boarded just outside of Coruscant’s airspace, but that didn’t mean he was going to make things easy.

“Transport 47816, you’re returning from a neutral star system. It’s protocol.”

Kann snarled. “Shove the protocol up your-”

“Shut up and let the troopers on the ship,” Skoh ordered. “I don’t have time for you to argue with the whole damn Guard.”

Despite his previous eagerness for a fight, Kann clenched his jaw and nodded. “Dropping shields now.”

Kann was one of the more reckless members of the Lament, but Nakte Skoh was a force to be reckoned with. When the tall Togruta spoke, every one of the mercenaries on the team listened. Disobeying him was a good way to get killed - sometimes by the enemy and sometimes by Skoh himself.

The troopers who boarded the transport were wearing the familiar Coruscant Guard colors. You even recognized a few of the patterns and greeted them with a slight nod. You wouldn’t have minded being a little more exuberant, but not among your coworkers. It would be unwise to show too much emotion surrounded by mercenaries.

“Everyone stand.” Grumbling. “Leave all weapons here. We will be interviewing each of you separately.” More grumbling, even as everyone started to reluctantly comply.

The trooper issuing instructions was none other than the commander of the Coruscant Guard, Commander Fox. You could recognize him by his visored helmet easily enough, but there was something in his voice. What exactly made his tone was hard to pinpoint, but if pressed, you thought you could pick it out of a crowd. Even if that crowd were made up of other clone troopers.

So you stood with the others, smoothly pulling your blasters and blades out from their usual places. The pile they made on your empty seat was respectable, the wear on the weapons a mark of your ability to use every one. With a last quick count to make sure none of the other mercenaries decided to take something that wasn’t theirs, you followed everyone to the link between your ship and the Guard’s.

“Hope they’ll be less stupid about their weapons checks this time,” Yarrex muttered to you. The Kiffar was impatient at the best of times, but she knew her stuff better than most. “Last time, they misaligned the power pack on my rifle. If I hadn’t checked, it would have taken all of us out.”

You nodded fervently, remember how close a call that had been. Yarrex’s rifle had been actively overheating by the time she returned to the transport ship and she had hissed loud curses the whole time she fixed it. You couldn’t blame her - the smell from the flesh of her fingertips burning had lingered in the ship for days.

There was a Coruscant Guard trooper just inside the larger ship, ushering you to your ultimate destination. “This way, down the hall-”

“-And to the right,” you finished. “I know, I know.”

“Been here a few times?” Yarrax asked over her shoulder.

You shrugged, glad there was no one else behind you. What you were about to say could easily turn into tales of bad luck, and eventually spiral into you not being hired onto as many jobs. “Every single time I come back to Coruscant.”

“That’s not fair,” one of the trooper protested.

You aimed a dry look in his direction. “We both know it is, Chase.”

“I didn’t know they had names,” Kann remarked as he was led to one of the interrogation rooms.

Yarrax hissed disapprovingly at his back. The trooper stammered, “I- I’m not Chase.”

“Save it,” Skoh advised with a nod in your direction. “That one can smell lies.”

Chase glanced at you, clearly nervous even through the protective cover of his helmet. You gave him a broad smile and went to sit down.

Chase and the trooper who had directed you to the interrogation area were watching the room. The unfamiliar one had a medic’s cross on one shoulder and you wondered idly whether the Guard was expecting trouble.

They shouldn’t, honestly. The standard Coruscant Guard procedure was to pull everyone into individual rooms to ask questions about the most recent mission. The Lament had some latitude in the way they conducted business, but everyone made a point of being as vague as possible in their answers. It was an entertaining game you all played when you came back to Coruscant.

Though, apparently, no one played it as often as you.

There were two interrogation rooms being used at the moment. The ship had at least a few more, but Lament missions were made up of ten mercenaries by rule - no more, no less. With Kann and another mercenary in the interrogation rooms, there apparently weren’t enough of you to warrant using more rooms.

Mercenaries weren’t the most lively and talkative bunch, especially not after a long mission. A few of them shut their eyes to catch a few moments of sleep. The lone Nautolan in the Lament, a female named Veng, worked on repairing a tear she had gotten in the shoulder of her shirt. The needle flashing in and out of the ripped halves was mesmerizing, but your attention was caught by Skoh.

Your leader was watching the room, gaze intent as he studied the mercenaries and the troopers watching you. There was no real tension in him, not even the kind disguised by the specific relaxation he took on when a negotiation was leading toward violence. But he was awake and alert, so you decided that you should be, too.

Not that there was any reason to, of course. Skoh and Yarrix were the next to disappear into interview rooms as the first two went back to the transport ship. You weren’t among the next two to be called, or the ones after that. When it was only you and Veng left on the Guard ship, the door opened for Khyr to step out. Commander Fox stood in the doorway, sternly announcing that you were next.

Veng didn’t glance up to see the amused look you gave her, but that was fine. It hadn’t really been for her, anyway. The commander stepped aside for you to enter the interrogation room, then closed the door before following you to the table.

“Commander Fox,” you greeted with a nod. “How are you? How’s the wife?”

The commander removed his helmet, all the better for you to see the confusion and exasperation mingling on his handsome face. “The wife.”

“Or husband,” you amended. “Or partner. Non-specific.”

“I don’t have any of those,” he told you. “Did you get hit on the head during this massacre?”

You rolled your eyes at him, the way you always did when he disparaged your line of work. “Not a massacre. Not this time, at least. We do things other than kill people, you know.”

“Yeah? What was the objective on this mission?”

It just so happened that the mission you were returning from had been far more violent than expected, so you stepped neatly around the question. “Anyway, the point is that I see you so often, I feel like I should get to know something about your life. With anyone else, I would know about their partner or children or pets or hobbies. I see you more often than my parents.”

“That so?” Fox asked, tilting his head to deliver his skeptical expression to best effect.

“Not in the slightest,” you admitted easily. “But it has come to my attention that not every Lament mission gets investigated by the Guard when they return to Coruscant.”

Fox stiffened slightly. “We do our best to stop every transport, but our team is spread thin…”

“I’m not doubting your work, Commander,” you assured, “just your selection methods. Why is it that my team is always the one to be stopped?”

“Coincidence.”

Now, it was your turn to be skeptical. “You’ll have to do better than that, Fox.”

His eyes widened briefly and you wondered if you had offended him by dropping his title, but he recovered in the next instant. “Are you suggesting that we should be suspicious of you?”

“No, but you are,” you countered. “Otherwise, why would you always be focused on my missions?”

“I told you: we aren’t.”

Despite the way Fox’s teeth were gritted, you pushed on. You had a trump card, and you intended to play it: “Then why are you here? You, specifically? The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, investigating a transport full of mercenaries? You have better things to be doing than this. It’s suspicious.”

“I’ve told you, it’s a coincidence.” Fox sounded overly stubborn, even for him.

You lifted your hands innocently in front of yourself and leaned backward in your chair. “Fine, fine. Total coincidence. Your complete lack of supporting evidence or further arguments has convinced me. Proceed with your interrogation, Commander.”

He scowled intensely at you, but sat in the chair across from yours and started with the typical round of questions. Name, address, interplanetary work-travel permit number, employer, job title.

When you had answered them all successfully, Fox set his datapad down on the table between you. “Now, tell me about the mission you completed just prior to coming back to Coruscant.”

“We were on Raydonia,” you answered easily. “We were hired to protect a village.”

Fox gestured for you to continue when you stopped. “And what were you protecting them from?”

“They were hit by two unknowns a few weeks ago.” The explanation was a little shaky, but it was the only one you had been given. It was still more than you usually got for a job and you were fine with that, but Fox seemed determined to think you were untrustworthy. “They took some of the most powerful warriors in the village. The village elders were worried some of the surrounding people might take the chance to attack them. They were right.”

“Were there any casualties?” Fox asked, carefully not looking at you.

You smiled despite yourself. “No Republic citizens were harmed.”

It was a vague and a polite way of reminding him that he had no jurisdiction over things that happened outside of Republic-controlled planets. Technically speaking, Fox had no jurisdiction over things that happened outside of Coruscant, but you wouldn’t bet on that stopping him.

“And among your team?” he asked. “No injuries or deaths?”

“Nothing major,” you told him with a shrug. “You can count. I’m sure you noticed all ten of us are here and accounted for.”

“What about minor injuries?” he pressed.

You knew better than to shift in your chair, or look away from the easy eye contact you had maintained up to that point. Fox was an expert, and a sharp one at that. The smallest possible tell and he would know everything there was to know. That was what made him dangerous.

“None to speak of.”

Even your flawless delivery left him looking distinctly skeptical. “Then why are you limping?”

Despite the surge of frustrated exasperation that rose in you, your lips curved into a smile. “You’re too observant for your own good, Commander.”

“Which isn’t an answer.”

That made you chuckle aloud. “No, it wasn’t. But since you’re so insistent on an explanation, I sustained a minor injury on the mission. I treated it promptly and it is well on its way to healing.”

“How were you injured?”

Dimly, you wondered if Fox realized that he had leaned forward slightly under the weight of his own intensity. But only dimly, because most of your attention was drawn to the way he was even more handsome from a shorter distance away.

“Why?”

Fox blinked, and it seemed to break the spell he had put himself under. An instant later, he was scowling again - a fairly regular expression for him during these stops. “Because I’m the Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard and I asked you a direct question.”

“I don’t answer to you,” you reminded him, privately savoring the look of profound irritation blossoming on his face. “Not about missions that take place in independent systems. Even if they result in injuries.”

“Maybe I have cause to believe that you sustained that injury in Republic territory,” Fox proposed. “Maybe I need proof you aren’t lying to me.”

For a mercenary, you were even-tempered. Remarkably so, in fact. It helped you get along with your more volatile coworkers. But you did have a temper, and when it sparked, you were far from subtle.

The slam of the chair’s front legs reconnecting with the floor was loud. Fox didn’t jump - he had too much control over himself for that - but his eyes darted to yours in a way that made his surprise evident. Your hands connecting with the top of the table between you was loud, too, the sound specifically and purposefully sharp.

You leaned in toward Fox and the expression on your face was unpleasant enough that he looked concerned. “I like you, Fox. I think you’re a good man doing your best in the galaxy’s worst job. That’s why I’m gonna give you this one warning: I do not appreciate being called a liar.”

“I didn’t-”

Your gaze was hard as you stared him in the eyes. Fox looked startled as well as concerned by that point. He had never seen you truly pissed before.

“Yes, you did,” you said firmly. “I will be the first to admit that I exaggerate. I dramatize. I embellish for comedic effect. But I do not lie. I have never lied to you or any of your men, despite what is verging on harassment. I do not intend to lie in the future, and I don’t want to file a harassment charge, but all of that depends on you.”

It was honestly a shock when Fox didn’t take advantage of your pause to speak. It told you that he understood how deadly serious you were. With his attention sharp on you, you told him, “I’m a reasonable person. I am willing to overlook this misstep… once. And that offer is entirely dependent on what you say next.”

“I’m sorry,” Fox said, honesty ringing in the simple words. You waited for more and he obliged: “You’re right, you have never lied to me - to any of us. Not about anything big. It was unfair of me to accuse you of it.”

“And why did you?” you asked.

The question felt a little like twisting a blade in an injury, but you needed to know. You needed to know that it wasn’t going to happen again, and if it did, you needed to know enough to anticipate it. Because you had grown to respect Commander Fox, damn it, and it had hit surprisingly hard to have him misjudge your morals so dramatically.

“I… don’t like the idea of you being injured,” Fox admitted, sounding mystified. You understood, since that explanation left you feeling a little mystified yourself. “I would like to know about your injury if you’ll agree to tell me.”

You watched the commander for another long moment, doing your best to gauge his sincerity. It wasn’t easy - especially since it required you to look past those lovely eyes and flawless bone structure - but you managed. It was one of your most reliable skills, after all. Fox seemed to be telling you the truth.

When you leaned your chair backward again, the tension in the room shattered. You sent him a cryptic half-smile. “You know us mercenaries,” you drawled. “We don’t give away anything for free. You ask your question and I’ll ask mine. A truthful answer for a truthful answer.”

Fox considered it for only a moment before he nodded. “How did you get injured?”

“One of the attacking villagers had better aim than I expected,” you said, smiling wryly. “After I pulled his vibroblade from my calf, I changed my previous opinion.”

“Do you have a bacta patch on it?” Fox asked. “If not, I can get you a fresh one before you go back to your transport.”

“I already have one, thanks,” you assured him. “And I’m feeling generous, so I’m going to point out the fact that I let you ask two questions. Now it’s my turn.”

Luckily for Fox, you really were in a good mood again. You only let him dangle in his discomfort for a few moments before you asked your question. “Do you always stop my transport on purpose?”

“Yes.”

For all that you had suspected that answer, hearing it directly was shocking.

Instead of responding immediately, you paused for a moment to take a breath. If Fox was targeting you specifically, you had to believe there was a reason. And since you had already come this far, you may as well find out what that reason was. “Why?”

Fox looked reluctant and faintly uncomfortable. It was the look you imagined most of the troopers got when they were asked to do an unpleasant chore. But, to Fox’s credit, he gave the answer he had promised.

“You’re not the typical mercenary.” You frowned, already opening your mouth, but he quickly went on. “Not that you don’t have your skills, but I’ve been keeping a close eye on the missions you’re a part of. That is, the Coruscant Guard has. There is a concern among the men that the Lament would leave you behind on a mission or allow an injury to go untreated.”

Well, it was an explanation, but you felt like it left you with more questions than answers. “Nice to know you guys worry about me, but I still don’t understand why you care.”

Fox shrugged, but the casual gesture was belied by the way his eyes were locked with yours. “You look at us like we’re human.”

You frowned again.

“And I… admire you,” Fox added quietly. “You have a code and you follow it. Unusual, especially for a mercenary.”

“Again with the insults about my work.” Despite your heavy sigh, your tone was playful, and you knew he would take it as the tease that it was. “I look forward to seeing you too, Fox. That’s why I haven’t complained about being stopped every time we come back to Coruscant.”

He gave you a disbelieving look and you laughed. “Okay, fine. That’s why I don’t complain too much.”

Fox didn’t immediately reply. Normally, the two of you traded barbs and witty remarks back and forth so quickly that it would make an onlooker’s head spin. But you didn’t feel the need to say anything further and, apparently, neither did he. The room filled with a surprisingly comfortable silence, warm and cozy in a way that durasteel interrogation rooms rarely managed.

“So you’ve decided against filing harassment charges?” Fox asked at length.

“I have no intention of it,” you told him. “We made a deal. Guess that’s more evidence of my rare and admirable moral code…”

Fox rolled his eyes and you laughed. Before he could say something sarcastic, you added, “Besides, I think I would miss seeing you guys if you stopped checking up when I return from missions.”

“You would miss us?” You would have accused Fox of fishing for a compliment if he hadn’t sounded so charmingly stunned.

“Of course,” you told him, narrowly stopping yourself from winking at him. He really was a very attractive man. “But I need to get back to the transport now. They wouldn’t leave without me, but one of the others might get a little grabby with the weapons I left behind. Especially since I have a sharp new vibroblade.”

Fox stood when you did, leading the way to the door with a suspicious look on his face. “This isn’t the vibroblade that…” He finished the question only with a vague gesture toward your injured leg.

“If someone stabs me with a knife, I get to keep it,” you told him seriously. “I believe that is common courtesy.”

“No new weapons on this next mission, then,” Fox said as he stood aside to let you pass. “No risks, no injuries, no killing.”

You shook your head in exasperation, already starting down the hall back to the Lament’s transport. “I’m starting to think you don’t understand what being a mercenary is, Commander.”

---

Author's Note - Happy Fox day! I knew I wanted to write something for 10/10, and big thanks to @nowait-whathappened for giving me this prompt! Thank you for reading and have a wonderful day!

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