The Nightbrothers - searching you for weapons
includes: Maul, Savage, Icarus, Scorn, Feral x gn reader
summary: youâre trying to go inside their base to do some negotiating.. so they gotta make sure youâre not carrying blasters. Itâs protocol ;P also this is only second or third time they see you so they donât know you, but youâve caught their eye ;)
note: lol hot hot hot hot hot hot :^) stand still and let them do their thing!
âïžpat-down by the Nightbrothersâïž
Starts with every intention of handling it professionally. He really does. He insists that this is a routine search.
Unfortunately for you, the situation escalates almost immediately.
The moment you make some offhand remark or flash him that irritating little smile, his patience evaporates.
And before you know it, youâre backed firmly against the nearest wall. His forearm braces against your neck, effectively trapping you there while his other hand begins its work.
The warning comes before youâve even done anything. Which means heâs already anticipating trouble.
His search is thorough. Every pocket, every seam, every suspicious fold of fabric receives his attention. His hand moves along your sides and down your stomach before returning to check a second time, as though he suddenly doesnât trust his own first inspection.
Or perhaps doesnât trust you.
âYou enjoy testing boundaries.â
His hand finds your belt, tugging sharply against it to check beneath before continuing. The movement is efficient, professional, but there is something undeniably deliberate about the way he refuses to rush.
As though making you wait is part of the punishmentâŠAnd almost as though heâs enjoying himself.
You shift slightly. A big mistake. Immediately his attention snaps back to your face.
âWhat did I say, huh?â
His voice lower this time. Sharper. The wall suddenly feels a lot closer.
Every reaction, every flicker of expression, every attempt to appear unaffected is met with that intense stare.
And if he catches even the slightest hint of amusement on your face, his expression darkens instantly.
The search pauses. His hand stops right at the highest point of your inner thigh.
âYou find this amusing?â
The question hangs between you as he rises to face you. One hand settles against the wall beside your head as he leans in.
âPerhaps I should start over.â
The words sound less like a suggestion and more like a promise.
When he finally finishes, he takes a step back, giving you room again.
Though the look he leaves you with feels far more restrictive than the wall ever did.
âNext time,â he adds, straightening his robes, âtry behaving.â
Theres nothing gentle about the way he handles you. One moment youâre standing there, the next both of his hands are on you, turning you around so fast you barely have time to react.
His voice leaves little room for argument.
A large hand plants itself between your shoulder blades, keeping you there while he gives your legs a firm nudge with his boot. Pushing them apart.
Savage isnât interested in subtle intimidation. He relies on sheer presence. On making it painfully obvious that if he wanted to overpower you, he could.
The search begins at your arms. His hands move over them in firm, practiced passes before working down your sides and around your ribs. Every touch is heavy, efficient. He checks your belt, your pockets, every place a weapon could be hidden.
When he moves lower, he crouches beside you without a word, continuing the search along your legs with the same thorouhghness. There is nothing hesitant about him. No uncertainty. Every movement says he fully expects to find something eventually.
Once heâs satisfied, a hand closes around your arm and he spins you back around to face him.
For a moment he simply stares down at you, towering over you with his arms crossed over his chest.
Then he points a finger at you in warning.
âDonât cause trouble.â
The look he gives you makes it very clear that if you do, heâd make sure you never get another chance for it. And as you nervously nod, his expression suddenly softens at you, just for a split second before going back to its default rigidness, but enough for you to notice.
Whatever that look was, it didnât quite match the threat. ;3
The narrowed look he gives you is enough to make your stomach drop. Without even being told, you awkwardly raise your arms and stand still for him.
A low chuckle immediately escapes him.
There is something almost unfairly amused about the way he looks at you. Like he finds your sudden obedience entertaining.
He approaches slowly, taking his time. One hand brushes the loose strands of your hair resting over your shoulders and moves them behind your back, or if your hair is short he kind of just steadily adjusts the collar of your shirt. Almost as if heâs giving you a chance to get familiar with his hands. From there, his search begins.
Firm, unhurried pats along your arms. Down your sides. Thorough enough to be convincing, slow enough to make you painfully aware of every movement.
The entire time, his eyes never leave your face.
Which becomes a problem very quickly. Because every time you try to look somewhere else, you can practically feel his amusement growing.
The question is accompanied by another quiet chuckle under his mask.
He lowers himself in front of you to check your boots and along your legs. For a moment, you think youâre getting away with it.
But then you hear it. The sound of your blade being pulled free. Your heart practically stops.
Slowly, Icarus rises back to his feet, twirling the knife once before holding it up between two fingers.
âCare to explain this?â
Before you can answer, his expression shifts. The amusement remains, but something sharper settles underneath it.
The knife disappears into his belt.
Then suddenly youâre turned around, a firm hand at the back of your neck pinning you against the wall.
The second search is much less pleasant.
The lazy, teasing movements from before are now replaced with toughness. This time heâs thorough. Every pocket, every seam, every place something could possibly be hidden. His hands move with practiced efficiency as he checks you again from top to bottom.
The way he keeps you pinned there tells you heâs taking this far more seriously now.
And judging by the satisfied hum he gives after checking another suspicious spot, heâs enjoying having an excuse to be a little rougher with you while he does it.
Doesnât waste time trying to intimidate you. He simply gets the job done, which somehow makes it worse.
His hand settles firmly between your shoulder blades as he pushes you towards the wall, beginning the search from behind. Every movement is precise and practiced. He checks along your shoulders, down your back, around your waist, leaving no area ignored.
There is no teasing. No comments. Just quiet efficiency.
When he turns you back around, his eyes immediately catch the nervous expression youâre trying, and failing to hide. For a moment, he stares down at you, before realizing just how frightened you are.
Then, without changing his expression in the slightest, he says,
The reassurance is so matter-of-fact that it almost catches you off guard.
âThis wonât take long.â
And then he continues as though the conversation never happened.
His hands move firmly down your arms, checking every seam and fold of fabric. He tugs at your belt to make sure nothing has been hidden beneath it, checks your pockets one by one, then moves lower. If something feels suspicious, he checks it again. If thereâs a place something could be hidden, he inspects it.
The worst part is that his calmness never slips. While youâre becoming increasingly aware of how helplessly youâre being inspected, Scorn remains completely focused on the task itself. Professional and unmoved. Makes you question what heâd do if he actually found something on you.
Eventually he steps back, giving you one final look before nodding to himself.
Another Nightbrother approaches, clearly intending to take over and escort you further inside. Before they can say anything, Scorn speaks.
âIâll take this one.â
The other Zabrak pauses. Scorn doesnât elaborate. Doesnât offer an explanation. The statement itself sounds less like a suggestion and more like a decision that has already been made.
After a brief moment, the other Nightbrother simply backs off.
Scorn gestures for you to move. âCome on.â His voice is as steady as ever.
And strangely enough, after enduring several minutes under his scrutiny, walking beside him feels a lot safer than being handed off to someone else.
Kind of gets flustered by the fact that he gets to touch you.
Not that he would ever admit it though.
He approaches with apparent confidence, shoulders squared and movements purposeful, but he avoids looking directly at you whenever possible. His gaze stays lowered, focused on the task at hand. If heâs wearing a hood or a cap, he keeps it low over his face, for the extra cover.
One hand settles on your shoulder pressing you back against the wall
The command comes out a little rougher than necessary.
And as he holds you there, his other hand begins the search. He works methodically, checking your arms, your sides, your waist.
Yet despite his efforts to appear composed, you can feel the tension in him. The slight stiffness in his movements.
The way his breathing occasionally catches. The faint tremor in his hand when he thinks you wonât notice.
But unfortunately for him, you do.
âHey,â you say quietly. âItâs alright. I know youâre just doing your job.â
The reaction is immediate. His shoulders tense. For a split second, he freezes entirely because now he knows youâve noticed.
A low growl escapes him before he suddenly resumes the search with more determination than before.
The words come out harsher than he probably intended.
His hand presses more firmly against your side as if he can somehow force the embarrassment to disappear through sheer stubbornness. He refuses to look at you completely now, focusing entirely on the search as he crouches down to check along your legs and boots.
If anything seems suspicious, he checks it twice. If you try to speak again, youâre met with another irritated grunt.
The more aware he becomes of his own nervousness, the more determined he is to prove it isnât affecting him.
Eventually he finishes and rises to his feet. Only then does he finally risk meeting your eyes for about half a second.
Then heâs looking away again.
A brief jerk of his head toward the entrance.
And before you can tease him about any of it, heâs already turning away, pretending the entire interaction never happened.
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