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galahadwilder · 3 years

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Future Perfect

This is my @mlsecretsanta fic for @crispypata! Crispy asked for DJWifi and Bunnyx, so I delivered.

It’s been a long week, and Alya is grateful for some alone time. While it’s always nice to have the others around, there’s an unstated pleasure in being the only one of her friends awake this early. Nino and Marinette are always asleep until very shortly before class, and Adrien may be awake, but his driver won’t be here for at least another twenty minutes. That’s a precious twenty minutes away from her sisters, away from anybody else. A precious twenty minutes of quiet.

Normally she’d spend this time updating the Ladyblog, moderating comments, writing posts, but after last night’s battle she just… she needs some time. Time to herself.

She’s shaking, just a little. She’s not even touching her phone. For the first time in a while, she’s actually reading a physical comic book—specifically, The Mighty Majestia Issue #48. Her first comic. A gift from her father when she was a little girl. It used to make her feel better when things were going bad. She needs that, a little bit, today. The feel of the paper under her fingertips.

It wasn’t her first near-death experience—she’s had a lot of those since Hawkmoth appeared in Paris. But Ladybug almost hadn’t made it last night. Alya had gone running after the Akuma, like usual, and…

A body flops down next to her on the bench. The warmth and weight of it—she glances to the side, and meets the familiar warm eyes of Nino.

“You okay?” he asks, laying his hand on top of the comic. “You haven’t read this since before we met.”

Alya nods. “Last night was bad,” she says.

Nino nods. “Yeah,” he responds. “Yeah it was.”

He doesn’t say anything else.

Alya is rarely the most perceptive person—more passionate than perceptive, honestly, though not for lack of trying (she tries really hard, it’s just… hard to tell what other people aren’t saying sometimes)—but she cares, and Nino is at school forty minutes before he’s usually awake and he seems unusually tense. She closes her comic. “Babe?”

Nino sighs, looking down as he picks at a hangnail on his thumb. “I can’t keep watching you die, Als.”

Alya’s heart judders. ��You’re not okay, then.”

He shakes his head. “I mean Rena Rouge is one thing. I know you can protect yourself, and Ladybug is right there if things go bad. But every time I see you chase after a giant baby with no protection but that sexy plaid shirt...”

“I have a responsibility, Nino!” she says.

“I know,” Nino says quietly. “I can’t really ask you to stop, either.”

Alya swallows. “Are you... breaking up with me?”

Nino looks at her for a moment, then snorts. “Hell no.” He reaches up to Alya’s cheek, brushing her hair away from her ear. “You ain’t getting away from me that easy, girl.”

Alya relaxes, leaning into his palm. “Attaboy,” she says.

Nino grimaces. “I might… need a day or two to process, though.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Alya’s heart falls. “You’re sure.” It’s not a question—Nino doesn’t make decisions half-cocked the way she does. He thinks, and considers, and once his choice is made, he sticks to it. That surety—that stability—is one of the reasons she loves him. Even if right now it’s hurting her.

“I’m sure,” he says. “Just… I need a few days after. You know.” He hangs his head. “Seeing you die again.”

Oh, God, Alya wants to slap him. And maybe a year ago she would have. But today-Alya is not last-year-Alya, and, instead, she just drops her head a little. “It was a bad one, wasn’t it,” she says.

Alya trudges out of class, dragging her feet. It’s been a difficult day, to say the least, and Marinette—bless her—may be trying to help, but there’s not all that much to do.

“We could go to my place and stuff ourselves with Beignets,” Marinette offers, with her characteristic hyperenergetic movement. “I know you love the Majestia movie?”

Alya shakes her head. “I relax a bit better when I move,” she says. She looks at the basketball hoops. “Can you stick around for…” She catches a hint of green out of the corner of her eye—a familiar shade, one that she’s seen quite a lot. She blinks. “For a few…” She turns her head, and there—staring down at her from the roof of the school—is Carapace. “Uh.”

Marinette follows her gaze. “What are you—”

Carapace’s head jerks as he seems to realize that he’s been spotted, and he leaps down out of sight.

“What is he doing?” Alya murmurs.

Marinette’s iron fingers wrap around her bicep. “Alya,” she hisses, “that’s not Carapace.”

“What do you mean?” Alya says, turning her head, just in time to catch a glimpse of Nino—as Nino, not as Carapace—walking out of the locker room on the opposite side of the school from where Carapace disappeared. It’s too soon, too fast—there’s no way he could’ve come around the school that quickly.

“Excuse me,” she says, bolting towards her boyfriend. She grabs his arm and yanks him away from Adrien.

“Babe... what?” he says, looking at her like she just grew a second head.

“I just saw Carapace on the roof,” she hisses.

His eyes widen behind his glasses.

They didn’t really discuss it, at least not verbally, but they both pretty easily came to the decision that whoever this is, stealing their identities is not something this person gets to get away with. They don’t even talk it through before they’ve agreed to chase this imposter down.

“You’re sure he went this way?” Nino asks as they charge off down the street toward where Alya had last seen the false Carapace.

“Yes, I’m—!” Alya starts to snap, before she catches herself and—stopping her headlong charge by pressing a palm into a nearby wall—breathes in. “Sorry, sorry.” She glances at him. “Pretty sure, yeah.”

“God, I wish I had my shield,” Nino mutters. He grabs her hand and meets her eyes with his characteristic Nino Soft Look. “If this ends up being a bad one, please take cover?”

Alya grimaces. “The Akuma is using your face, Babe,” she says.

“Please.” His voice is calm and soft.

Alya thinks about how distraught he was this morning, how little she wants to do that to him again. “I’ll—I’ll try.”

Nino smiles. “That’s really all I can ask, isn’t it.”

Alya smiles, tugging him along. “You knew I was crazy when I asked you out,” she says, building carefully building back up to a run.

Nino snorts, vaulting over a street barrier. “That I did.”

It takes barely a minute before they reach the spot where the false Carapace must’ve gone, leaving them looking down wide avenues packed with people—none of whom are wearing a green hood.

“We lost him,” Nino says, puffing.

“I mean,” Alya gasps, “duh.” She leans onto her knees. “He’s got—powers, and we—we have, what—about eight—months of parkour training?”

A familiar whizz-crack comes from above, as a spotted red figure drops down in front of them. “Alya!” Ladybug says, glancing confusedly at Nino. “Did you see where Carapace went?”

“Nope,” Alya says. She leans in toward Ladybug, carefully eyeing the other people who are watching the exchange. “Definitely an Akuma, then?” she whispers, quietly enough that nobody else is alarmed.

“Maybe?” Ladybug whispers back. “Or a Sentimonster, or. Well. One other thing.”

Alya’s eyebrows narrow. “What other thing?”

Ladybug shakes her head. “Probably not important,” she says. She straightens and backs away, whipping her yo-yo in rapid circles. “Everyone stay calm and quietly evacuate the area,” she says in a clear, authoritative voice. “Calmly, please! Everything is under control.”

There’s a growing undercurrent of panic in the crowd at Ladybug’s words, but there’s a force behind her last sentence, a reassurance, that passes calm through the crowd like a ripple. Much to Alya’s surprise, there’s no stampede, no rush to flee. Everyone actually listens, beginning to carefully file away, emptying out the street.

“Any chance we could get our Miraculi?” Nino asks. “I don’t like this.”

Ladybug glances over her shoulder at him. “Not until Chat gets here,” she says. “I can’t just leave the Akuma without anyone containing it.”

A black blur drops out of the sky, rolling and springing to his feet next to Ladybug. “Good thing I’m here, then!” Chat says, leaning his elbow onto her shoulder.

Ladybug rolls her eyes. “Always so dramatic,” she says, turning to her partner. “Can you hold down the fort for a few while I grab backup?”

Chat eyes Alya and Nino. “So long as the Ladyblogger doesn’t get herself killed, yes.”

There’s still been no sighting of the fake Carapace by the time Ladybug returns carrying the bracelet and the necklace. Chat has been running across the rooftops, spying into alleyways, but hasn’t seen scale nor shell of him.

“Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe,” Ladybug intones, holding the two Miraculi aloft. “I’m trusting you with the Miraculous of the Fox and Turtle.” She purses her lip. “I’m going to ask you to switch, though. I don’t want us mixing up our Carapi.”

Alya grimaces, but Nino just nods. “Makes sense,” he says, taking the necklace and draping it around his neck. It sparks, and a tiny fox spirals out from it. “Trixx, Let’s Pounce!” Nino calls.

He flashes orange, sparks running across his whole body, and suddenly Nino is gone, replaced by an orange-clad superhero. He still has Carapace’s hood, peaked down over his forehead, with ears poking through holes in the top. Leggings are tucked into combat boots, black gloves cuffed over white-and-orange sleeves. He looks down at his arms, twisting his hands to look at both sides. “Hmm,” he says. “Pretty cool.”

“What should we call you?” Ladybug says.

Nino meets Alya’s eyes. “What about… Reynard?” he says.

“Reynard it is,” Ladybug says. She turns to Alya, handing her the jade bracelet. “You ready?”

“Always,” Alya says, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist. “Wayzz, Shell On!”

She feels her hair lift into a high ponytail as her glasses meld to her face into a domino mask. Unlike the Rena Rouge transformation, which slims her down, she feels herself bulking up. Armor plates slam into place around her chest, shoulders, and thighs. Everything feels heavier, but also stronger, more stable.

Reynard whistles. “Damn, babe,” he says. “Green looks good on you.”

Tortue Verte grins. “You expected anything else?” she ask. She absently lifts the shield. “Damn, this thing is heavy,” she says, looking at Reynard. “How do you even lift it?”

“Practice,” Reynard says, twirling the flute. “This is really light!”

“It’s basically bamboo,” Tortue replies, slinging the shield onto her back. “You ready?”

Reynard sheathes the flute on his own back. “Let’s take this guy down.”

Tortue Verte’s super jump is a lot like Rena Rouge’s—though, given the balance between her being slightly stronger with the Turtle and also being heavier, it’s a little weird to balance. She gets more distance but less height with each jump, and since her brain keeps expecting Rena’s jump arc, she keeps misjudging where she’s landing.

She lands hard on the side of her foot, twisting her ankle and stumbling shoulder-first into a chimney with a yelp. Her ankle is struck by stabbing pain, and she immediately collapses onto her side. She lies there on the roof, huffing, feeling desperate and foolish. This is not what she was hoping for.

She carefully drags herself up the chimney into a sitting position, carefully pulling the shield from her back and dialing Reynard.

“Hey babe,” he says, his orange-hooded face filling the screen. “You good?”

She shakes her head. “Landed bad,” she says. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

Reynard’s eyes widen behind his goggles. “Where are you?” he says. “I’ll be there in a—”

“Babe!” she interrupts. “Akuma. I’ll be fine up here.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods. “I’m sure,” she says. “Give that fake hell.” She hangs up, then collapses backward against the chimney with a gasp.

“Sorry I didn’t catch you,” a voice—a familiar one, but one she can’t quite place—says from behind her. “I think you’d have broken a few of my bones.”

She whips her head around to see a red-haired woman dressed in blue and white, bunny ears sprouting from her head, leaning on an umbrella as if it were a cane. Tortue tries to leap to her feet, shield up, but pain spikes through her ankle the second her foot meets shingle. “Augh!”

The woman immediately drops the umbrella, and her arms are around Tortue’s body. “Careful,” she says. “Don’t want to put too much weight on that.”

“Don’t touch me,” Tortue growls.

The woman laughs. “Relax, Foxy. I’m not an Akuma.”

Tortue blinks. Foxy? She’s wearing the Turtle, not the Fox, which means… “You—you know who I am.”

The woman smirks and throws up a peace sign. “The name’s Bunnyx,” she says. “Wielder of the Miraculous of Time, from ten years in the future.”

“Prove it,” Tortue says. “What’s Ladybug’s real name?”

Bunnyx snorts. “You’re not getting it that easily… Alya,” she says. “Also, Nino’s sort of downplaying how worried about you he is. You really should start being more careful before you give him a heart attack.”

Tortue stares at Bunnyx, then blinks. “...Okay, you’re for real,” she says. “What are you doing here? Are you warning us about something?”

Bunnyx shakes her head. “I brought Carapace and Rena back from my time for one reason,” she says. “Future Hawkmoth has discovered Ladybug’s identity, which has put her daughter in danger.”

“Daughter?” Tortue says.

Bunnyx continues as if she hasn’t heard. “Ladybug asked me to bring her back in time to protect her from Future Hawkmoth, but I needed backup just in case she followed us. You and your boyfriend were the obvious choice.”

“Where is she?” Tortue says, trying to work her way to her feet. She hisses as pain lances through her ankle again.

“Jeez, stay down, Tortue!” Bunnyx says, carefully easing her back into a sitting position. “You need to be careful. We need you for this one.”

“Don’t bother,” says a voice that sounds like Tortue’s own as an older, taller Rena Rouge lands in a crouch. “I had absolutely no self-preservation at that age.”

Carapace lands next to her, softer, gentler. “You nearly killed me like eight times,” he says, cradling a baby in his arms. He looks down at Tortue. “Hey, babe.”

Rena rolls her eyes, gently punching Carapace’s shoulder. “Don’t flirt with young me, you butt,” she says.

Tortue stares at the baby, wide-eyed. “Is that…” she murmurs.

Rena nods. “Our god-daughter,” she says.

Carapace smiles. “Do you want to hold her?”

“She’s… mine?” Ladybug says, gazing down into her daughter’s emerald-green eyes.

The baby laughs, reaching up toward her mother’s face and pressing her chubby palm into Ladybug’s cheek.

“Who’s the father?” Chat says to Bunnyx, hope shining in his eyes. (Tortue admits to herself that she’s just as interested in finding out.)

Bunnyx smirks. “Oh, Kitty Noir, you know I can’t tell you.”

Chat looks crestfallen. “Not even a hint?”

“She’s so small,” Ladybug whispers, pointing a finger at her daughter’s face. The baby laughs again, gripping her mother’s finger in between her hands.

“You said she’s my—our god-daughter?” Tortue says.

Rena laughs. “My boyfriend has spent more time pampering this little terror than he has me lately,” she says. She turns and pokes Reynard in the chest. “You’ve got some growing to do, babe.”

Carapace rolls his eyes. “Please don’t flirt with the babies, babe,” he says with a smirk.

The laughter that follows seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, and Tortue looks around, unsettled.

“...Wasn’t that funny,” Carapace mutters.

Bunnyx walks toward the edge of the roof, looking down. “Missing the point again, Shelly?” she says, pointing down. “It’s starting.”

“What is?” Chat says.

“ATTENTION PARIS!” a booming, feminine voice echoes deeply through the sky as if it’s rebounding off the very atmosphere, followed by a sudden eruption of Wagnerian opera. “YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED TO JOIN THE RANKS OF ODIN’S MIGHTY WARRIORS IN VALHALLA!”

“Ah,” Chat says, nodding. “Akuma time.”

“Bad one,” Bunnyx agrees, nodding. “We picked today for a reason. Two illusionists needed at minimum.”

Tortue gingerly attempts to stand, only for the pain in her ankle to spike like a jagged piece of bone. “Ah!” she yelps, collapsing backward.

Immediately, two sets of hands are holding her up—Reynard’s and Carapace’s. “You okay?” Reynard says, his eyes soft and concerned.

Carapace swallows. “I’m sorry, babe, but I—” He glances at Rena. “We are going to need you to stay out of this fight. You’re injured.”

“I can help!” Tortue protests.

Carapace shakes his head. “I know how much it means to you to be out there with us, but A—um, sweetie, I need you alive, okay?” He smiles, glancing back at Ladybug. “Besides, um. Someone needs to keep the baby safe.”

Reynard raises an eyebrow. “You are a braver man than I,” he says.

Rena laughs. “Oh, it’s just ‘cause she’s a baby,” she says. “He knows I’d rip his throat out if he tried that.”

“You are also much less suicidally reckless than she is,” Carapace shoots back.

Rena shrugs. “Fair point.”

Ladybug approaches, carefully laying the baby into Tortue’s arms with a look of regret. “Stay safe, okay?” she says. She looks down and presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “And keep her safe.”

Tortue swallows, overwhelmed by the—the everything. The trust Ladybug is showing her, the softness of the moment, the sadness in the child’s eyes as her mother goes back off to battle… it’s too much.

“I’ll do my best,” she croaks, trying not to tear up.

Carapace had carried her away from the battle. Vilekyrie controlled the sky, making it difficult to keep the baby out of her reach, but he’d found her a little out-of-the-way cubbyhole that nobody would come looking in during the attack. Or, well. Not a cubbyhole, really. More of a luxury suite at the Hotel Gran Paris.

“How did you know nobody would be here?” Tortue had asked him.

He’d only smiled in reply. “Spoilers,” he’d said. “Love you forever, but I gotta get back there.”

“Good luck!”

Now, about forty minutes into the battle, she can hear the clash of swords, the clanking of armor, the screaming of horses as they flew past her shaded window. She’d looked outside earlier, caught a glimpse of the copies of Vilekyrie flashing across the sky—copies of her that kept growing by the moment—and the marching of ghostly Viking soldiers on the ground: the Einherjar she’d selected from Paris’ citizens, transformed into undying warrior spirits. It doesn’t seem to be going well, but then, she doesn’t really have the best vantage point.

The baby is fussy, fussier than she was when Ladybug was around—Tortue can only guess that it’s because she wants her mother. The room has been stocked with formula and fresh diapers, and, thanks to her experience with the twins, Tortue has plenty of experience with taking care of a baby, but the girl just won’t settle down.

There’s a quiet footfall on the balcony—not a Vilekyrie, and the Einherjar can’t seem to climb. Tortue turns around to see the balcony door creek open, followed by a pair of large orange ears. “Hey. Mini-me,” Rena says. “You hanging in there?”

Tortue smiles, rocking the baby gently in her arms. “You didn’t tell me her name,” she says. “Feel weird just calling her ‘baby’.”

Rena ducks around the door, shutting it behind her, then bends down, cooing over the child’s delighted face. “HellooOOOooo!” She tickles the baby’s nose with her finger, and the girl laughs.

Rena looks back up at Tortue with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she says. “No names. Spoilers.”

Tortue rolls her eyes. “Am I always this aggravating?”

Rena gently wraps her arms underneath the baby’s back, lifting her from Tortue’s arms. “Pretty much!” She turns back to the baby and blows a raspberry.

“What’s up?” Tortue says. “Why aren’t you with the others?” As if to punctuate her point, an explosion sounds in the distance, and Tortue raises an eyebrow.

“Needed to talk to you,” Rena says, sitting down on the plush velvet bedspread across from her. “Also, I told them you were planning on running into the combat zone, so…”

“I was not!” Tortue yelps, leaping from her desk chair. The baby immediately squeals in distress.

Rena grins. “I know,” she says, gently tickling the child’s nose. “But they believed me when I said it, and by the time they figure it out…”

Tortue sighs. Gods, her older self is annoying. “What do you want, Alya?”

The animation in Rena’s face slackens, and she looks down at her own stomach. “I… want to show you something.” Keeping one hand under the baby, she reaches behind her and unslings the flute, opening the space within. “Take a look.”

Tortue reaches inside the extradimensional storage space inside Rena’s weapon, confused—and then her fingers close around something small, round, and metal, and she understands. “You’re going to propose,” she says, fishing the ring out of the flute. She stares at it, entranced.

“Yep,” Rena agrees with a nod, gently bouncing the baby. “Bought the ring last week.”

Tortue doesn’t even know what to say in this situation. Is it… weird to congratulate herself? Some situations, there aren’t just good responses for.

Rena sees her face and laughs. “Don’t look so shocked, Mini-me,” she says. She carefully rocks Ladybug’s baby, staring into her green eyes. “I mean, you always knew we were gonna do this eventually.”

“Yeah, but… kinda young?” Tortue says, handing the ring back to Rena.

“Ladybug’s younger.” Rena absently places the ring back inside her flute, still bouncing the baby in her other arm. “About a year younger than you, actually.”

Tortue blinks. She’s—well, she figured out a while back that Ladybug wasn’t actually 5,000 years old, but she’d always assumed she was, maybe, Anansi’s age? The thought that Ladybug is younger than she is... “Yikes.”

“Yikes is right,” Rena says. “And she has anxiety. So every time you go running face-first into danger like you’re never gonna die…”

“Is this a lecture?” Tortue says.

“Little bit,” Rena responds.

Oh, great. The last thing she needs right now is a lecture from herself of all people.

Rena rolls her eyes. “Listen, Kit, sometimes—sometimes Ladybug isn’t gonna be there. She doesn’t always show up, you know.”

Tortue narrows her eyebrows. “Yes she does?” That’s, like, the big consistency. Aside from that one time where the Akuma and the Sentimonster were in different cities, Ladybug has shown up for every single Akuma battle.

Rena shakes her head. “She has a life, Alya. And, well, sometimes she needs Chat to cover for her.” She looks toward the curtained window, toward the sounds of the battle still filtering in from outside. “And sometimes, Chat and Viperion get taken out early, and the only person who can use the Ladybug is you.”

A chill runs down Tortue’s entire body. The responsibility of using the Ladybug Miraculous—it’s terrifying. It hadn’t even occurred to her that it might pass down to her, that—oh, no. This is… this is what Ladybug feels all the time, isn’t it?

“Listen, however you feel about Nino now?” Rena says. “It’s nothing compared to what it’s going to be. He and I, we’d do anything for each other.” She breathes in, stroking the baby’s head. “Which means that, well, you and I need to stay alive.”

“The Miraculous Cure—”

Rena shakes her head. “It’s good, but it’s not… 100% reliable. Sometimes, Ladybug can’t be there.”

Tortue’s mouth opens, closes. Opens again. “Oh.”

Rena stands and places a hand on her younger self’s shoulder. “Alya, someday, you’re gonna get hurt. You’re gonna get hurt in a way that Ladybug can’t fix, and you’re going to wonder if you even deserve this Miraculous. If you even deserve Nino.” She looks down at the baby with naked fondness in her eyes. “I’m telling you now—you deserve way more than you realize. But if you want to make it to see our wedding...” She trails off.

Tortue waits for her to finish, but Rena doesn’t say anything else. The implications in Rena’s words are disconcerting, and Tortue asks the question that’s burning inside her chest. “Am I going to die?”

“Of course you are,” Rena replies. “You’re going to die a lot. But some of them are going to be harder to come back from, and Alya.” Rena’s eyes bore into hers. “You need to come back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Tortue whispers.

“Miraculous LADYBUG!” Ladybug calls from outside, and pink insects swarm across the room. There’s a brief moment of pain as Tortue’s ankle snaps back into place, immediately replaced by cool relief as the pressure vanishes.

Rena puts a finger to her lips. “Don’t tell Reynard, okay?” she says. “About the ring.”

Tortue mimes zipping her lip.

Rena nods. “Thanks,” she says. “Oh, and one more thing—you’re also gonna need to be more careful if you want to get into a good journalism school. Nobody wants to be the professor that killed the Ladyblogger.”

Tortue blinks. She… hadn’t even thought of that. “That makes sense, I think?” she says.

The balcony door creaks open and Carapace peeks through. “Hey, guys,” he says. “How’s everything going in here?”

“Really great!” Tortue says. She eyes her older self. Rena is fidgeting, looking away from her boyfriend’s face, and Tortue realizes—if she doesn’t make the push, Rena isn’t going to do it. “I think Rena has something to tell you.”

Rena glares at Tortue. “Betrayal!” she hisses.

Tortue laughs. “You’ll thank me later.”

Carapace glanced between them, confusion written across his face. “Um, what’s going on?”

Rena takes a deep breath, then carefully hands the baby to Tortue. “Hold her for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Rena looks at her boyfriend, then drops to one knee, fishing the ring out of her flute. “Nino Lahiffe. Will—will you, um…”

Carapace gasps and covers his mouth with both hands, his eyes shining wetly. “Alya?” he whispers.

Both of them sit in shocked silence, staring at each other, frozen, and after a moment, Tortue gets fed up. “Babe,” she says. “Say yes.”

Carapace glances at her, then back and his girlfriend... then lifts his fiancée bodily into the air in a crushing, spinning hug.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he crows in delight.

The portal closes, leaving just the four of them behind.

Ladybug huffs in relief. “You know, I love Bunnyx, but… every time I see her, it’s a brand new disaster.”

Chat looks at her in confusion. “Every? Isn’t this only the second time?”

Reynard sidles up to Tortue Verte. “So, how was meeting your future self?” he says, as Ladybug and Chat quietly discuss something else off to the side. “Mine was a lot more confident than I expected.”

Tortue snorts. “Kind of a butt,” she says. “But then again, that’s not much of a surprise, is it.”

Reynard coughs. “I invoke my right to not incriminate myself,” he says.

Tortue smacks his shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

Reynard smiles. “Your dork.” He looks at where the portal vanished. “For quite a while, apparently.” He turns back to Tortue. “She tell you anything interesting?”

Tortue smiles, thinking about the proposal, about how happy she and her Nino were. About all the advice her future self gave. She has a lot of work to do.

“Sorry, babe,” she says. “Spoilers.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #djwifi #original content #my fic #Alya cesaire #Nino lahiffe #ninalya #Rena rouge #carapace #turtle!alya #fox!nino #bunnyx #bunnix #mlsecretsanta 2020 #mlsecretsanta2k20 #emma agreste

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aerynwrites · 4 years

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Touch

Din Djarin x Reader

Author’s Note: Yes, I know this isn’t a request but I just - I needed to write some touch starved Din okay? So here, I hope you enjoy this 2.6k words of yearning, and touch and fluff and hands.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: fluff, touching, slight NSFW? kinda? Hands.

“He touched me, and it felt as if the stars were dancing across my skin.” - Unknown

///

Being in a relationship is hard sometimes, that’s something that you knew going into this. However, you quickly found out that being in a relationship with a Mandalorian is even harder.

You and Din loved each other, that much you knew. You both had said it multiple times by this point in your relationship, and you could tell even if you didn’t say it out loud. You could tell when he told you his name one night in the cockpit, the stars a silver blur as you flew through hyperspace. You could tell when he fiercely protected you no matter the danger. Din showed you in many ways that he loved you, but never in the way that you yearned for the most, and one of the few ways you knew how to show him.

Touch.

You had learned rather quickly that Din was very hesitant when it came to touch in any form other than when was necessary. He wouldn’t hesitate to tackle you to the ground to save you from a blast or grab your arm in his hand gently when trying to get your attention. But he never touched you unless it was absolutely necessary, and he seemed to recoil when you touched him. so, you had started slow.

***

The first time you had tested the waters was when you both were sitting in the hull eating dinner. You had prepared a small meal and made Din eat his fill while you were preparing your plate. Just as you had sat down to eat, he had returned from the other room, empty plate in hand and helmet stuck firmly on his head. He set his plate on a nearby crate before joining you at the sad excuse for a table, sitting close to you as you ate your food. This was routine at this point, he would eat, then come and join you while you did the same. Sometimes small conversation would fill the air, but most of the time you both sat in a comfortable silence, just content to be near each other. You cast him a small smile as he sat next to you before scooping another spoonful of stew into your mouth. Your eyes flickered from the bowl in front of you to Din’s gloved hand fiddling with a small metal piece on the table. You didn’t think twice before you reached out and grabbed his hand in yours, instantly aware of how his arm seemed to turn to stone in your grip. He sat rigid, caught off guard by your sudden touch, even if it was over the gloves. You chose not to comment on his behavior and instead, slowly moved your fingers between his own, lacing them together. You returned to your food, quietly munching away, a small smile creeping onto your face as you felt him slowly start to relax the longer you held his hand in your grip and you felt your heart swell as his thumb started to run over your hand soothingly.

After this first time, he started to let you hold his hand more, sometimes he would be the one to seek you out and lace your fingers together, shocking you at first until that too became the norm. you would hold his hand while he sat in the cockpit with you beside him. He would seek out your hand as you both ate dinner or when you were sifting through the medical supplies. You would even go as far as to just simply brush your hand against his as you passed each other in the hull.

Little did you know that these became some of Din’s favorite moments.

***

After the first time, after getting past that first little touch barrier, you had gotten a bit bolder. You had started running your fingers over the small sliver of skin on his neck when you would stand behind the pilot’s chair. Something that, at first, had caused the man to nearly take your hand off – but after discovering it was just you, he would settle back in. Still not completely relaxed, but not ready to attack this time around. This too became a normal thing, and while he would come to expect this small gesture every now and again, he still couldn’t help the shudder than ran through his body every time your cool fingers met the back of his neck.

You had assumed that Din wasn’t accustomed to touch and affection – the death of his parents and being raised in a covert of warriors probably didn’t leave much room for that. But you had never expected him to be so touch starved. At first you had though that he simply didn’t want to be touched, that he would never let you touch him – but as time wore on, and he let you do more and more, you realized that wasn’t it at all. This man craved your touch, wanted to be as close to you as possible, but he just had no fucking idea how to do it or accept it. This is why It surprised you when one evening, after he had emerged from the refresher in just his tunic and trousers – the only armor adorning him being his helmet – and strode over to you, pulling you into a firm, albeit hesitant, hug.

You had melted into him almost instantly, relishing in the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of your clothes. You immediately returned the hug before pulling back to look up into the inky blackness of his visor.

“What brought this on?” you ask quietly, afraid if you said too much he would walk away.

Din, ever a man of few words, didn’t say anything, just shrugged his shoulders as his hands fell to your waist. You dropped your hands down to meet his and were met with the all to familiar feeling of leather clad hands. You grasped them in your own and pulled them away from your hips to rest in front of your chest. You looked at him before dropping one of his hands so you could take the other in both of yours and tugged at the fingers of his glove slightly.

“Can I take these off?” you whisper, looking up at him expectantly.

Din didn’t move for a moment, and you were afraid he was going to reject your request and pull away, but instead, his helmet tipped forward in a small nod. You beamed at him, feeling like your heart might burst at the fact that he is letting you do this, showing more of himself to you than he ever had, even if it was just his hands. You looked back down at his hand still held in yours and slowly pulled at each fingertip of his glove, revealing more and more tanned skin until the entire glove was off and dropped to the floor carelessly. You then switch to the other hand did the same thing before taking both of his hands in yours and lacing your fingers together. You didn’t miss the slight hitch in Din’s breath as you finally held his hands in yours, no barrier separating you from him. The first true skin to skin contact he’s had in decades.

You took one of his hands and placed it on your hip, letting out a quiet chuckle when he immediately gripped the flesh there, as if afraid you would disappear if he didn’t hold onto you. you then turned your attention to his other hand, the one still held in your own, and brought it up to your lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of it. Din stopped breathing as your lips met his skin, and he felt like his heart was about to leap from his chest. So, in order to take some kind of control – to try and stay grounded, he pulled you into his chest once more, both of his hands coming to rest on your waist, squeezing gently. He let out a shaky sigh, as his heartbeat started to go back to normal, and he felt somewhat grounded again.

But then you pressed your lips against his neck, a cheeky smile gracing your lips as he pulled you tighter to him.

***

After that, touches between you too became even more frequent and seemed to come more natural to the beskar clad warrior. But you still had one more thing to accomplish.

After a while, you had managed to convince Din to just sleep in the same bed as you, it was better than rotating in and out as you needed sleep, and just more efficient in general. But even thought you had gotten him into your bed, the man was still afraid to touch you. he wouldn’t initiate more than holding hands, as if he was afraid of hurting you or doing something wrong. So, this is how you ended up where you were now, standing in front of him while he was sitting on the bed in only his base layers with his hands sat rigid on his thighs. You approached him slowly, giving him ample time to stop you if he was uncomfortable. But even as you finally reached him, moving so you were straddling him, a leg in either side of his hips, he sat stone still – the only sign he was alive being the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He slowly moved his hands from his legs to make room for you, shuffling further back on the bed and let his hands rest on your hips, but they didn’t move past that. Your hands sat at the junction between his neck and shoulders, thumbs rubbing soothingly at the skin there as you looked into his visor, seemingly staring right through it and into his eyes.

“You can touch me you know,” you say, hands never leaving the spot at his neck, “I’m not going to break.”

You heard a quiet sigh slip through the modulator of his helmet as it tilted downward, a slight feeling of shame and guilt filling the man’s chest. He loved you, more than anything in the galaxy, yet he couldn’t manage to give you the one thing you wanted without feeling like a stumbling fool. He want to touch you – maker he wanted to touch you, he craved your touch – But it was all so foreign to him, he didn’t want to disappoint you or accidentally hurt you, or make you upset.

“I – I just –“ he stuttered, his hands gripping onto your hips as he desperately tried to find the words he was trying to say, “I don’t know what – I don’t want –“

You cut him off as you laid your hands on top of his, giving them a gentle squeeze and making him look at you once more. He immediately felt a sense of calm wash over him as he saw the understanding and patience in your eyes, knowing that you don’t care about his blunders or slip ups. You just care about him, you want him, no matter what. Yet, despite this mutual and unspoken understanding, he still feels himself go rigid as you guide his hands under the hem of your tunic, his fingers meeting the warm and soft flesh of your hips.

“I can show you,” you whisper, your own breath escaping you as you feel his calloused hands on your skin, “If you want?”

Din’s brain felt like mush, moving so slow everything is sluggish and he can’t even begin to form a coherent sentence. So, he just nods, but even that feels like a monumental task as his brain tries to catch up with his body.

You don’t hesitate to accept his compliance, aching to have his hands on your skin. You slowly guide his hands further under the thin fabric of your shirt, sighing at the contrast of his battle worn hands on the soft skin of your stomach and waist. You hadn’t even moved his hands that far when Din’s brain finally seemed to snap back into place, gears moving in full speed as his hands started to move of their own accord. The minute he finally seemed to register what was happening, that you – the beautiful woman he fell in love with – was letting his hands roam your body, a strangled groan slipped past his lips.

You felt your face flush at the unbridled sound, and you had to bite your lip to keep similar sounds from falling past your own lips. But you couldn’t help the small gasp the escaped when you felt his thumbs brush just underneath the swell of your breasts. Din stills instantly, hands not moving an inch.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, sounding slightly breathless.

You shake your head, and shift so you are closer to him, your hands coming down to the hem of his tunic, playing with it slightly, “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassure, and Din let’s out a small sigh, before his hands continue their exploration.

You take this moment to slip your hands under his tunic, “Can I –“

“please,” Din’s strained plea cuts you off, and you don’t wait a moment longer.

Your hands slid further up his torso, subconsciously mapping out every scar and bump on his skin, as your hands travel over the warm expanse. Your palms slide up over his stomach before reaching his chest and sliding around his back and you shift so you are even closer to him and are able to tuck your head into the crook of his neck. You let out a contented sigh as you feel his hands slid up and down your back, fingers tracing patterns into the skin slowly before moving back down to your sides and repeating the process over and over again.

Din shudders as your warm breath fans over the exposed skin of his neck, and his hands stutter in their movements slightly when you press a gentle kiss to the area, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He had never truly realized how much he craved touch until this very moment, craved this much skin on skin contact with another person before. But it wasn’t just that, he didn’t just want touch. He wanted your touch, he wanted your skin on his - and once he got it, it was like a drug. He never wanted to take his hands off of you, never wanted to feel anything but your soft skin under his fingertips.

And while he knew this wasn’t possible, he could at least make it last. So with that goal in mind, he pulled one of his hands from beneath your shirt, smiling when he heard your small whimper from the loss of contact, and used it to push himself further back onto the bed until his back was resting against the wall. Once he was sure you were both comfortable, his hand immediately returned to its previous location, not missing your grateful sigh. You both stayed like that for what could have been hours, the only indication that a considerable amount of time had passed was your soft breathing and your hands falling still against his chest.

You had fallen asleep.

Din couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at the realization, and he slowly shifted you both to lie down, his hands never leaving your skin. And for the first time since you had started all of this, Din fell asleep to a new and welcome warmth under his fingertips.

///

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beskarberry · 3 years

Text

The Most Dangerous Game

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 7, Book Two Prologue

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

“Above you the black hole where his eyes should be turned down to you, tilting slightly with a questioning roll. You reached up and slid your own armor to the top of your head so that he could see your face. “The bounty pucks can wait, right?” He nodded, and you bared your teeth in a vicious, bloodthirsty grin. “Then let's. Go. Hunting.”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 9k

Content warnings: Absurd amounts of domestic fluff, Mando and Reader being adorable, killing Imps for fun, sex outdoors, a smidge of voyeurism, dirty talk, praise kink.

A/N: This chapter is the springboard for the rest of book two, though it was mostly just an excuse for me to write them being cute together before I chuck them back into the nuclear disaster that is a hunters life. Enjoy!

<-Previous Next->

You didn’t need to open your eyes to know that you were being watched, but it wasn’t a threat whose eyes you had captured.

Deep within the empty underbelly of Nevarro you were pretending to be asleep, listening to the breathing of the one that shared your bed. It was fast enough that you knew Din was awake, and the feel of his gaze on you was making it difficult to keep a straight face. You breathed slowly, doing your best impression of unconsciousness while a roving hand moved leisurely over your side. The Mandalorian’s strong body was pressed tightly against your back, his nose buried in your hair, fanning warm puffs of steam against your scalp. In your own arms the foundling was curled in a little ball in his favorite spot against your chest while your hands gently rubbed his ears. An amorous rumble against your spine and a long, deep sigh behind your head told you that the jig was up.

“Do you know you hum in your sleep, cyare?”

“Well good morning to you too, bucket boy.” You arched against his chest, reveling in the way the arms on either side of you tightened and a contented hum vibrated along your back. “What’s for breakfast?”

A sleepy laugh reverberated in your ear before soft kisses made their way to your temples. “It’s always about breakfast with you, isn’t it, riduur’ika?”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, don'tcha know that?” You tilted your head so that his lips could get to your cheeks, the scrape of bristles prickling your skin. “Plus I’m sure Little Beans is hungry.” In your arms the green bundle yawned and stretched before his enormous eyes flickered open, ready to greet the brave new day. A soft purring chirp told you that you were right in your assumption, “See? Baby needs breakfast.”

Your partner sighed behind you and started to pull his arms free of your body so that he could prop himself up, peppering your face with kisses. You rolled from your side onto your back, letting him get to both of your cheeks before he found your lips again. His soft mouth against yours broke into a wide grin, and you let your eyes open to meet him at last. Part of you had believed that you had dreamt the previous evening, that the vicious haunt of hyperspace had left you stark-raving mad; but when you met those warm, honey-dark eyes of his you beamed right back at him. There he was, in all his early morning glory, a mop of bed head sticking to his brow and the red streaks of sleep scars denting his face. Somebody slept damn good.

The foundling clawed gently at your side, and you both turned your attention to the bug-eyed creature you both adored. Din let his weight fall onto you before reaching out to pull the child close to your smushed bodies, giving the green terror a fuzzy-lipped kiss. “Is that right, womp rat? You hungry?” The child gibbered and patted his papa’s bare face. “Alright, if you say so.” Din nuzzled the baby again, then kissed you deeply before tapping his brow to your forehead. He rolled off of you with a groan, making sure to squish you with his weight before sitting up on the edge of the bed, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to the vicious scars of his back. He stretched his long arms, and the light patches of healed skin practically danced in the dim light of the dorm, bidding you to touch them. You lazily let your hand drop against him, and the slight flinch from the mighty warrior made you laugh.

“You’re going to have to get used to being touched, tin man.”

He fixed you with a playful glare, “Not if I want to stay alive.”

“So you’ll wed and bed me but you don’t trust me not to kill you? It was your idea!” You razzed, poking at his kidneys with pretend death blows and making him keel sideways to save himself from your assault.

“Hey now! You asked me to!” He caught your quizzical expression, recalling that you knew nothing of your accidental proposal. He lugged his helmet up off the ground where it had sat for the night, the opalescent beast teeth still sitting pretty in the indents of its cheeks."Mandalorians decorate the helmets of the ones they...that they want to riduurok." Din said shyly, pointing at one jewel: “Will you,” then the other, “marry me, clear as the fangs on my face. How could I say no?”

“Are you kidding me!?” You burst into laughter, if only you had known! You could have spared yourself so much heartache with the knowledge that you weren’t getting left behind after all, maybe even have saved yourself the ordeal of space-mares. “You’re telling me that I proposed to you? Why didn’t you tell me so!” You were sitting upright now, the foundling at your side, watching his buir with confusion.

Din set the helmet on his knees, hunching his shoulders and shaking his head. “I-I didn’t...I didn’t want you t-to… to leave me. Didn’t want to make you frightened...”

“Oh sure, but dropping to your knees and asking me to keep you or kill you is fine and dandy, huh rustbucket?” You chucked a balled-up blanket at him, making him hop up from the bed to run away from you. “You’re lucky that you’re cute and you’ve got a nice ass.”

He cocked a brow at you from the other side of the room, crossing his arms in mock indignation. “Is that the only thing you like about me, cyar’ika?”

You covered the foundling’s super-sized ears, unsure of how much Basic he actually understood. “You got a fat cock, too!”

The glare you got from your unarmored companion had you howling with laughter, and you flopped back on the pile of furs that was masquerading as a bed next to the bewildered foundling. A poor choice, your tender belly was now exposed, and agile hands found your sensitive middle to tickle you with a fury. The other hunter threw his legs over you to keep you from squirming away while he poked at your tummy until tears pricked at your eyes. “You’re too mouthy, cyare!”

“Stop! Stah- Ah! Stoppit! Fuckin’ hell I give, I give!” Your muscles twitched hard in your middle, trying to protect your guts from his roughhousing. Din pinned your arms down at your sides, flashing you a brilliant, boyish smile.

“So easily? How disappointing.”

“I’d watch my back if I were you, tinman.” A fierce kiss nipped at your lips before you were released from his torturing grasp. Free of you, Din began pulling his gear on, and you tried to take a mental note of the order that his equipment was donned, but the leather and beskar flew to his body like magnets, and he was fully dressed in short order. “Boooo! Hisss!” He found his helmet again and plucked the radiant jewels from their recesses, tucking the finery into the pocket behind his chest plate. Their disappearance made you a bit sad now that you knew their true meaning, but you knew that there was no way he could keep the bling on his beskar for all to see.

He saw your frown and shrugged. “They’re still good luck, even if you can’t see them, right?”

“Right!” You hopped up from the bed, stealing one last kiss from his bare face before the helmet sank back into place with a hiss of its latches; and the familiar visor was staring back at you again. You pulled your discarded clothes from the floor, shaking everything out before dressing yourself. Glittering on the floor by your feet was your new mask, and you quickly hooked the electromagnetic ear cuffs on, excited to wear your betrothal gift. In the corner of your eye you could see Mando watching you, relishing in the sight of you adorning yourself with his cultural armor, and you cocked him a sly grin before sliding the cool metal down over your face. The visor flickered to life, and a hot slew of color washed over your eyes.

“Ok so… night vision, thermal tracking, infrared, ultra violet… Are any of these filters just regular sight, or is this how everything looks to you all the time?” You flipped through the settings of your engagement present, taking in your surroundings through a kaleidoscope of colors. Heat vision cycled again to your eyes, and you saw the hot red bloom in the center of your riduur’s chest, tendrils of heat coursing over to his extremities. You watched as the human fireball sauntered up to you, and the sound of leather brushing against metal scratched loudly in your audio processors as he flipped a secret switch, disabling the extrasensory equipment. “Thanks, that’s better.”

“Takes getting used to.” You wished mandos kept mirrors on hand, you could only see how you looked in the reflection of his visor, and though the image was warped, it was still formidable. A soft leather-clad hand wrapped around the back of your head, pulling you to his helmet in the familiar motion of affection you had grown to love; but the sound of beskar on beskar didn’t donk like it did with a skull, it chimed. Sweet, soft ringing like bells in the wind instead of the hollow thud of meat and bone, and you couldn’t help but gasp. No wonder he liked doing it so often. The low rumble that followed told you that he heard your quiet exclamation, and was laughing at you fondly. “Did you hear it?” You nodded and knocked your forehead against him a second time, chasing the sound of the bells, but the hand behind your head hugged you tightly to stop you from trying a third. “Beskar laar, ironsong. I’ll ring that bell for you every day, cyare, but I think someone is getting impatient.”

You looked behind you to where the foundling was trying to climb off the side of the bed onto his stubby little legs. Mando strode past you to scoop the short green thing up off the ground, holding him so that he faced outwards toward you. You ran your hand over his ears and patted his fuzzy head before hunting for your bag. It was the only thing you had brought with you from the Crest, and you were determined to steal a couple of extra towels and a good chunk of your favorite soap before returning to your Iron Mistress. With a full bag and a full heart, you and your clan made your way up to the surface world.

It was a bright, smokey morning on the surface of Nevarro, and two ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket walked through the decimated streets of the city that bore the same name as its planet in search of supplies, but most of the store fronts were still closed. Construction was happening on all sides, the ash and dust of the Imperial siege being cleared away to be made anew. Takes getting used to was an understatement, and not just because of the flashy detection equipment or the weight of the armor on your face, that was negligible; but what was making you the most uncomfortable was that you were getting stared at. The townsfolk were used to the destructive tendencies of the Mandalorians, stoic hunters that could go from silent to explosive in the blink of an eye, as made obvious by the sad state of the city streets. You, however, weren’t used to being noticed by anyone, but now people were desperately trying to get out of your way; and you weren’t sure if that made you feel powerful, or monstrous.

“Mando, how much did we make on the other three bounties?” Your hush money was running thin, and if you were going to restock your supplies and get off this lump of charcoal, you would need some extra cash.

“We left before I was able to collect, but I doubt there will be anything for us after Karga pays off the debt of your lost warrant. You were supposed to be brought in alive.”

“Well fuck, I guess we better go see if he’ll pony up some credits for us to get our shit and get out of here.” The cantina was just a few blocks over, and the three of you made your way to the low domed building that served as the town’s central hub. When you reached the saloon, you caught sight of the Guild agent through the window, and you knocked hard enough on it to shake the soot from the dirty transparisteel. “Karga! Hey, Karga!” He could barely see you as it was, the volcanic ash of Nevarro built up thick on the low window sill, but when he turned his attention to the sound of his name, you could see him furrow his brow. The old agent squinted at you and cocked his head, unable to tell who was beckoning him through the grime, and you pointed at your shiny new face and waved. You saw an eyebrow raise, then both fly upwards when he put two and two together, followed by a face so shocked you wished you could snap a holo of it and display it on the wall of the Crest. You made a series of obscene gestures with your hands, pointing at yourself and the Mandalorian that was coming up behind you before finally walking into the cantina.

The other hunters moved aside quickly, having learned their lesson about the bite of beskar, and slinked off to the far corners of the room. You couldn’t help the swagger with which you walked, taking all the time in the world to approach the usual business booth. Karga only watched as your trio approached, unable to tear his eyes off of the streaking silver that now covered your face. You plopped down heavily on the tattered seat, scooting over so that your partner could squeeze in next to you. Having an armored face gave you an amazing new feeling of concealment, and behind your mask you were grinning like a nexu at the stunned expression of the agent sitting across from you; just waiting for him to find his words. He pointed to you, hovering just a little too long before pointing at Mando, then back at you with more flurried brows.

“You...”

“Yep.”

“And him…?”

“Uh huh.”

“So now you’re…?”

“You almost got it, Kargsy.”

He leaned back heavily in his seat before slamming down on the tabletop. “Preposterous! I mean... I was only joking, I didn’t really think…wait a second, you didn’t even invite me?!” You knew your face was hidden, but the way your shoulders jostled gave away your stifled laugh. “How could you?! After all I’ve done for you two! Oh what am I saying! We should be celebrating! Crazy damn hunters...” The agent did nothing to hide his belly shaking laughter, waving at the bartending droid to fetch some drinks, though the only one at the table that would be drinking would certainly be himself. Three glasses and a jug of too-early-in-the-morning spotchka clanked to the table, and you felt your guts flip-flop unhappily at the sight of the vile brew. Greef poured himself a glass, then hesitated to pour a second. “So, are you like Mando now? Can’t show your face? How does that work exactly?” Good question. You turned to Din, who only shrugged and rolled his unadorned helmet.

“You’re not bound to the creed, you’re only bound to me. Do as you please.” You weren’t exactly planning on imbibing anyway, but the way he spoke so brazenly about your bond made you flush warm under the beskar, and maybe keeping it on for now was a good idea. You shrugged, it was a good enough excuse to turn down the luminous liquor that you couldn’t forget the taste of fast enough. The Guild agent put down the spotchka jug after having only filled one glass, and sipped slowly at the glowing drink.

“Unbelievable. Couldn’t even send me a card, and after I set you two up!” The snap of both your visors on him made him jump. “Now you’re ganging up on me!” He started to top his glass back up, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath. “So, what can I do you two lovebirds for?”

You ignored the sass behind the term of endearment, “How much is left of our credits?”

Karga scoffed. “Left? There’s nothing left! Those three bounties put together barely covered the cost of the damages to that transport unit you blew up. You’re lucky I’m such a smooth talker or I would have gone bankrupt! If you want more credits, you’re going to have to take on new jobs.”

Fantastic, so much for taking time off. You looked at Mando and made an ‘I’m sorry’ grimace at him, forgetting that he couldn’t see you under the beskar. He must have gotten the hint though, because his shoulders went stiff and a long, drawn-out sigh leaked from his modulator. Nothing escaped Karga’s ears at this booth, and he frowned at the two of you before turning his attention to the child that floated at the end of the table. Baby beans was just watching, his eyes darting between everyone in the group, probably remembering the last time the three adults sat together and how poorly it had gone. Greef made silly faces at the baby before turning back to the two hunters. “I’ll tell you what, as my gift to you newlyweds and your adorable magic baby, I’ll pay for your fuel, but nothing else!”

“That’ll work! Alright, Kargsy, whatcha got for us?” You were pleased with yourself that you had negotiated at least part of your travel costs away, but a heavy leather hand found your leg under the table, reminding you that you made decisions as a team now, and you briefly worried that you were getting ahead of your tinman. The warm pads of his fingers squeezed and thumbed at your leg, and you realized he wasn’t trying to stop you from picking bounties, he was getting excited, barely able to contain himself at the prospect of taking out new targets together. It’s what you did, after all.

“Well, first things first, I can’t give you any pucks, you’re supposed to be dead, remember? I can only give jobs to the living, Guild restrictions and all.” Karga fished a chain code reader from his voluminous robes and brought your information up on its holopad, and instead of the usual ghostly blue of the living, your picture was a harsh red haze, the word DECEASED blinking over your eyes. “I can start you a new registration profile, Mrs. Mando, but I’m going to need a name.” You rolled your eyes at the jibe, though the thought of having to rename yourself hadn’t actually crossed your mind. You couldn’t exactly put down Djarin, though that was your surname now, so you would have to come up with an alias. Hmm…

You stared at the keyboard of the reader, running through old nicknames and people you once knew, maybe even the names of racehounds you had once bet on; but the hand that was resting on your leg came up from the table and pulled the device closer. Mando poked something out on the keyboard with his pointer fingers, and in the holopad the word <<TRA’LAAR>> glimmered back at you over top of an image of your masked face.

“What does that mean?” you asked softly, feeling the gloved hand of your husband return to your knee after he pushed the reader back to you. The Mandalorian turned to you with a gentle tilt of his visor, something you had learned was liken to a smile.

“Starsong. Is...is that ok?”

Starsong. You nodded quickly, it was perfect. Across the table the Guild agent looked like he was going to lose his spotchka, disgusted with the two of you being so cute. Karga shook his head with a strained laugh, then dealt out a handful of pucks to the two living hunters. He went through one after the other, explaining their crimes and their credit rewards and last known locations. Most of them weren’t fantastic, plenty of bail jumpers and a handful of assault charges that might prove fun to hunt, but not anything that would prove a real challenge. Next to you Mando nodded along, but under the table his hand inched higher up your thigh with each new option, the handsy warrior making you blush under your own beskar until you reached down to halt his advances. Strong fingers locked between yours, his thumb rolling over the back of your hand and distracting you from the hunt options being laid before you. Here you were trying to do your jobs, but even work couldn't convince him to stay off of you. You jumped when Karga cleared his throat, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

“Well, whatcha think, Mando? You wanna pick two and I’ll pick two?” He nodded beside you, squeezing and letting go of your hand to absently grab two pucks off the table and pull them towards you without so much as a second glance. You made to follow suit, but the second both your hands were above the countertop, Din’s heavy paw fell right back to your thigh, deviously close to their apex. Heat flushed your face, stinging against the cool of your beskar, and you picked up two random pucks from the pile. Across from you, Karga watched you both make your decisions with tongue in cheek and eyebrows raised, a look that you knew meant you had made some strange choices; but he just shrugged, already having decided that the two of you were crazy.

“Interesting.” Greef pulled the accompanying blinker fobs to the table, clearing away the disregarded pucks back into his many pockets. “Alright you two, I’ll have your ship filled and you can get on your way.”

“No droids near my ship, have the porters do it.”

Karga laughed, “Of course not, Mando, I don’t have that much of a death wish, especially not after yesterday.” The old Guild agent sighed, “You two behave now, you hear?”

You nodded enthusiastically, but under the table your armored companion was doing just the opposite, following the inside of your leg until he was groping at your mound, sliding a leather pad over where your slit pushed against the duraweave. Insatiable!

“You got it, thanks for the gas!” You smacked Mando’s pauldron, kicking him off of you as well as the booth. “Beans, say bye-bye to uncle Kargsy.” The child waved as his floating pram turned and ghosted along behind you out the cantina door. Though the bar had food on hand, it left much to be desired, and street vendor delectables were calling your nose. Townspeople skirted out of your way as you followed the smell of much-needed breakfast, but you ignored them to grill your companion. “Mando! You’re lucky he was focused on the bounties and not your wandering hands, or he woulda kicked our asses to the curb.” The metal mountain shrugged, shaking his helmeted head quickly as if he was bemused by the idea of getting caught.

Corellian bloodhound must have run in your veins, because you were able to sniff out an early morning bakery and caf-roaster, and the savory aroma had your mouth watering behind your armor. The whites of the vendor’s eyes were showing as the two of you approached, and even without any of your visual equipment running, you could see him pale at the sight of your mighty trio. You knew by the look on his face that if you wanted to eat, you would need to play nice. “Good morning, could I get-”

“J-just take it! Take whatever you want! P-please don’t hurt me!” The frightened merchant backpedaled from the stand, throwing their hands over their face for protection. Part of you wanted to lift your mask to assure them that you weren’t exactly Mandalorian, but thought better of it and pulled a handful of credits from your pocket, setting down what you thought the price might be for three pastries and a thermos of caf. The vendor stayed huddled away from the stand as your crew continued on its way, and you tried to shrug off the glares you were getting while you wrapped two of the pastries up and stuffed them in your bag for you and Din to eat later. Beans took his breakfast eagerly, being his gross, adorable self as he chowed down in his hovercrib.

“Damn Mando, is it like that for you all the time?” The hunter nodded, but said nothing. “That fucking blows.” You tilted your mask back just enough to get the thermos to your mouth, wincing at the caf’s heat and lack of sweetness, but powered through it anyway. You stopped at a few more stores, picking up your usual collection of bacta and tools, absently chatting away at your partner while he followed silently along. You had your backpack stuffed full of goodies and were feeling well about your next adventure when you rounded a street corner, and stepped back immediately at what you saw. You’d only caught a glance, but you knew the shape of standard-issue white duraplast anywhere.

“Mando back up. Right now.” You pushed against his chestplate, steering him back down the alley you were in until you were behind a stack of crates. His jetpack made an ugly sound as it scratched against the stucco of the building while you pressed up against him, using your body to shield him and the child’s pram, though he himself would have made a much better barrier. Habitually, his hands went to your waist, still enamored with being allowed in your proximity, not quite getting what you were trying to do. You ignored him, watching the intersection through your visor.

“Cyar’ika...this isn’t-”

“Ksst!” You hissed, catching the tilt of beskar in the corner of your eye, and the click of a blaster’s safety in your ear when he noticed you weren’t playing coy. Motionless, you both watched the entrance to the alleyway, and you heard them before you saw them.

“You there! Have you seen any mandos?”

“Y-yes! Two of them! They went that way!” Shit balls of hell. You recognized the whimpering voice of the baker that was selling you out. Under the chestplate of your armored companion you caught the sound of his quickening heartbeat, the speeding rhythm adding to your own surging adrenaline. The stormtroopers were crossing through the intersection now, and you were able to get a good look at the sad state of the once-terrible soldiers. Their plasticast armor was dingy and dirty, smeared with volcanic ash and rust. Between the busted plates you could see the tears in their duraweave, sloppily patched and mended. They looked like shit, but they were still armed to the teeth in what was left of their equipment. Blindly they made their way past your alley, not even bothering to glance at where you were hidden. Hot breath coasted over your head with the release of your packmate’s breath, and you let yours loose as well.

“That was close.” He grated through his modulator. “The last thing we need, or these townspeople need, are more fucking Imps.”

“No shit, looks like it’s just a handful though. Still too many for a good day, but not so much that we couldn’t handle them.” Above you the black hole where his eyes should be turned down to you, tilting slightly with a questioning roll. You reached up and slid your own armor to the top of your head so that he could see your face. “The bounty pucks can wait, right?” He nodded, and you bared your teeth in a vicious, bloodthirsty grin. “Then let's. Go. Hunting.”

A low growl reverberated in the metal of his chest, and the hand that wasn’t brandishing his blaster came up to cup your chin, dragging his rough leather thumb over the edge of your jaw. “Marry me.”

“Day late, dollar short, bucket boy.” You chided, “I’m already spoken for.” You kissed at the edge of his helmet, reveling in the snarl that barked through the modulator before pulling your own beskar back down over your face. “We gotta get them away from the civilians.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I thought you hated my plans.”

“Your plans are terrible, but they work, ner riduur.”

“Damn right they do. Ok look, I’ll grab their attention and get them to chase me, you take Beans and pick them off as I get them further away from people. Think you can handle that?”

Beskar chimed when it knocked against your brow, surging fire along with the adrenaline your veins were furiously pumping. “Just be careful, my love.” You returned the gesture of affection with another sweet chime, then pulled back to point down the alleyway. Din nodded and took off, the child’s closed hover crib floating along behind him. Free of your oathsworn, you rolled your shoulders and scuffed your boots in the volcanic soil, revving yourself up for what would be a hell of a run. You stepped out onto the main road, catching sight of where the disgraced Imps were still harassing the townspeople. The thermos of nasty caf exploded on the back of one big white egg, turning their attention to you.

“Hey fucknuggets! Looking for me?” You barely took a breath to duck back into the alley as blaster fire shot overhead. Assholes, there’s bystanders nearby! Memories of Tatooine flashed in your mind as you hauled ass through the charred streets, chucking supply crates into the way of the worst shots in the galaxy. The stormtroopers weren’t fast, but they were ambitious, plowing through the obstacles that you threw in their way. You rounded a corner, avoiding plasma shots easier than the broad side of a barn. “Eggheads!” You taunted, keeping them chasing after you. At a deserted intersection you stopped, waiting for them to round the corner; and you couldn’t help but grin when one of them was yanked into the air, dangling on the end of a grapple. A single -urk- told you that one was down and out. How many were there? Three? Four?

Two more rounded the corner, and you sped down the next street after another string of searing insults. The Imps shot at you with no regard for human life, pockmarking the already disheveled buildings with more burnt holes. Making sure that they saw you take the next turn, you ducked behind a corner, waiting for them to follow suit. So predictable. The two dirty soldiers plodded past you, and you drew your blaster and fired, catching one in the skull and one in the shoulder. Trooper one fell to the ground, but the second one reeled and tried to aim their gun at you with their fucked up arm. Bad move. Black and silver rained from above, kicking the stormtrooper’s legs out from under it and blasting it full of holes. Mando knocked the dead Imps gun away with his foot, just in case, then turned his gaze to you. “Nice wor-look out!”

You snapped back to look behind you, and for the first time in the entire history of the Empire, a stormtrooper made a bullseye.

“-Twang!-”

You fell backwards to the ground with the force of the impact to your face. Game over.

“Blam!”

Everything was ringing, and not in a nice way, making the world appear as flickering greys and blacks as your eyeballs tried to pull blood back to their concussed retinas. The sound of Mando’s blaster and the thud of a dead body hitting the dirt made you open your stunned eyes. You laid in the pyroclastic gravel, thinking maybe you were a ghost and you were just hearing and seeing the last of the living world; but your wilted vision was soon eclipsed by a big metal bucket leaning over top of you.

“Are you alright?”

Shockingly, you were able to respond. “I...think so? What the hell I took that right between the eye- oh!” You brought your hands to your face where a bullet hole should be, running your fingers over the smooth beskar that had saved your life. “Beskar! Beskar blocks blast bullets! Try saying that three times fast.” Your helmeted husband hauled you to your feet, roughly brushing the dirt and gravel off of you in his endearingly fussy way. “Yeah, I’m good, tinman. Thanks for the armor.” You were glad he couldn’t see your eyes, you were squinting and blinking fast, trying to usher your sight back, letting loose a sigh of relief as the details of his armor came into view. The protective faceplate chimed its siren song as Din pushed his helmet against you, humming happily with the knowledge of your safety.

“You’re quick, cyare, but maybe next time let me be the bait?”

“Not a snowflake's chance in hell.” Turning away from your armored companion, you bent down to inspect the fallen trooper. “What the fuck were they doing here anyway?”

“Probably leftovers from the siege, maybe longer by the looks of their armor.” A bandoliered boot kicked at the sullied corpse. “Usually there’s more than this, but these look like they’ve been on-world too long, trying to make a good capture to earn a place back into a larger platoon.”

“Shitstains.” You pushed your mask to the side and spat on the ground, “I’d better not see another one of these skulking around, or I’ll run out of blast cartridges pumping them full’a holes.'' The taste of the hunt was still strong on your tongue, and the hunger for blood was making you aggressive. “Fuckin’ Empire never did me any favors, not to mention all the people who’s lives’ve been ruined by their destruction. What’s left of them needs to be purged like a disease. Expunged.” Through the haze of bloodlust you caught your man staring at you, and realized that you were getting more fired up than what might have been appropriate. You cleared your throat, trying to cough the thrill of the chase out of your lungs. “Yikes, I’m sorry Mando, I don’t know what-”

“Don’t be.” He was close now, having crossed the short distance between you in a single stride. “Tell me more.”

“Oh? You like that, huh?” He nodded, letting his hands wander up your arms and down your sides until he was squeezing at your waist. “I wanna hunt Imps.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Forget bail jumpers, I wanna go after the Empire’s soggy leftovers, break their dirty duraplast open and spill their rotten guts.” The handsy warrior ran his fingers around the swell of your ass and down the backs of your thighs, lifting up on them so hard you were forced to wrap your arms around his neck while he saddled you around his waist. “Mando! We’re outside!”

“Don’t care, I wanna hear more.” He waltzed the two of you into the nearest alleyway, barely out of sight of anyone who would walk down the street; though the stormtrooper carcasses would probably dissuade any and all from getting too close. Mando waited for you to toss your backpack off before pushing you against the stucco, grinding hard into your core.

“Fucksake, where do you get the energy?” You laughed, though it was a serious question that would probably never get an answer. He ignored you, groaning heavily in your ear.

“More.”

“Alright alright.” It was hard to respond with him getting so fresh. “If I see another one of those fucking eggheads I’ll rattle their dirty plastic buckets with...with...fuck.” His armored hips surged into you, the plates of his sides pinching your inner thighs and making it hard for you to put words together. “Gonna… gonna scramble their yolks with my b-blades.”

“Fuck yeah you are. More, tell me more, ner riduur.” Between your legs the bulge of his stiff cock was rutting into you, trying desperately to meet you through the layers of duraweave.

“I’m gonna find those dirty Imps, I’m gonna shoot them in their ugly plasticast faces. I’ll take all their guns as my trophies. Blow their whole ratsnest sky....high!” You keened, squished harder against the wall by the breadth of his chestplate so his hands could move without dropping you. Deft digits dug into your belt and yanked, pulling your pants down over the curve of your backside just far enough that your heat was exposed. You were unable to see anything past his broad armored shoulders, and the sound of a zipper being thrown was all the warning you got before he was pushing up into you.

“I think… you should...take...their...heads!” He stuttered between thrusts, leaning back to hook your legs through the crooks of his elbows, jackknifing you against the ashstreaked wall. His cock split you in two, stretching you open almost painfully without any prior slicking. “More! I wanna hear more! Make your husband proud!” His command growled through his modulator, so loaded with need that the hair on the back of your neck stood on end and your pussy flooded with much-needed juice.

“Fu-fuck Man-an-d-do! I’ll- fuckin...stab… an’… sh-shoot… ah~!” Between his filthy cadence and the air being squeezed from your chest you couldn’t get a word in edgewise; and you bunched your fingers into the scruff of his cloak, holding on for dear life while he plowed you into the wall. You clamped your coils around him, making him moan against the side of your mask and earning yourself just enough of a break in his stride to find your voice. “Gonna… gonna get the jump on ‘em. Sneak up behind their stupid fucking Imp asses and gut them like fish.” You winced when he sped up, the friction becoming too much.“Ouch!”

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of pain, his heaving chest the only movement from the silver statue. He looked down between your bodies to where he was lost inside you, then let one of your legs back down to his hip so he could free his hand from your thigh. The armored paw was brought up to the bottom of your mask and up under the beskar to your mouth.

“Bite.” You bit down on the leather, holding the glove in your teeth as he pulled his hand free, stuffing it down between your pressed bellies to where his cock was. He pulled the throbbing member out and slid his calloused fingers in, hunting for your sweet spot. “Let’s see, where’s that spot that makes you squirm? Should be...right...about...here.” His trigger finger dug into the patch of nerves, pumping in and out of you until you were whining around the glove still in your teeth. Another finger joined the first, taking a moment to scissor around inside you to stretch you further before thrusting into you again. “You love my hands, don’t you, cyar’ika? Love when I fuck you with them?” You could barely nod, between his efforts and being squashed against the wall, you were putty in his hands. His long fingers pumped quickly at your core, digging in deeper every time you clenched around them to churn you into a slick mess. A vicious growl in your ears made your insides flutter, and the Mandalorian could feel you starting to come undone for him. “Does that feel better, cyare?” He purred, spinning his thumb over your clit between plunges. “Come on, come for me like a good girl~.”

You bit down hard on the glove with a muffled cry, clawing at his shoulders while he milked every drop from you until it was running down his hand and onto the volcanic soil below. Soft praises whispered out of his modulator, telling you how well you take his hands, how soft and strong you are and all the ways he would pleasure you each and every day. He slid his fingers out of your deliciously wet heat and filled you right back up with his cock. The bare hand glistened in the smoky daylight before disappearing under the edge of his helmet to lick himself clean, humming at the taste of your sweet nectar. With both hands back on your legs, he nearly crushed you against the wall, chasing his own desperate release. Hot steam fogged up your visor, his ragged breath coming hard out of the bottom of his helmet with each merciless thrust. The sound of him losing himself in you was music to your ears, low, rumbling growls between broken words of adoration until he was nearly spooled to completion.

“That’s my riduur! That’s my wife! F-feirce little t-thing! So b-beautf-ful, wearing my armor! Wearing beskar like a true Mando’ade! I c-can’t wait to...to... get... you more!” He pulled out of your sopping cunt, pressing his throbbing shaft under your asscheeks while he came hard against the wall behind you, groaning the whole way through. His breath came in broken gasps through his modulator, and his arms coiled around your legs as if he was trying to melt your body into his through your many layers. You hugged him back while trying to pull your legs from his arms, and reluctantly he let you drop from him, holding you steady as much as he was trying to hold himself. Tugging your pants back up and taking the wet glove from your mouth, you couldn’t help but turn and glance at the marked wall, flabbergasted at the amount that was dripping through the ash-laden stucco.

“That’s supposed to be mine!” You pointed at the gooey smear with a laugh that was rewarded with a tilted visor glare.

“No...fresher…”

“Oh aren’t you thoughtful."

You patted his heaving shoulders and leaned forward to kiss his helmet where his mouth would be, humming sweetly before turning your attention to the corpses that were still strewn about the deserted street. The trooper bodies had started to grow cold, and you made your way over to them to collect your trophies with a skip in your step. Their blasters were grimey, so soiled with plasma residue and fucking dirt that you almost didn’t want to touch them. “Hey, Mando, do you think the scary sewer queen would like these?” He cocked his head at you from over where he was dragging the white plasticast corpses into the alleyway you had just disrespected. “The beefy lady, with the sword?”

“Ruusaan?” You nodded at the somewhat familiar word. “She’d be thrilled. Probably forge you another piece of armor once you collect a few more. Everything after the helmet has to be earned, and...and I’d love to see you...in… in full beskar, cyar’ika.”

“So I’ve been told.” You glanced around the deserted back alley, getting the feeling that something was missing, something important. “Mando! Where’s our fucking foundling?!” Din straightened up and pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, angling his visor up to the rooftops. The baby’s hoverbucket floated over the edge, gently gliding down from out of harm's way. Inside, the tiny green terror was throwing his arms up in the air, enjoying the ride back down to ground level. His shirt and blankie were covered in muffin crumbs, and though he was a mess, your stomach roared; being made violently aware that you hadn’t gotten to eat your fucking breakfast yet. Both of your boys cocked their heads at the sound of your rabid insides, bidding Din to stride forward, placing a hand on your shoulder while you tried to clear the remnants of the child’s meal away.

“Are you still hungry?”

“I never got to eat, our breakfast is still in my backpack.”

His helmet snapped softly backwards in a motion you had learned meant he was confused. “Why didn’t you eat yet?”

“Because I want to eat with you.” You ignored the quick tilt of his beskar to focus on picking pastry bits out of the child’s ears, fucking stars, how did he get them in his ears?! “It’s not fair that you have to eat by yourself all the damn time, creed or not, you should have someone watching your back when you’re vulnerable. And that’s my job now, right?” You pushed your mask up to the top of your head so he could see your eyes meet his visor. The metal mountain looked so small with his shoulders drooping and his hand resting softly on your arm, the faint twitch of his helmet telling you he was rapidly looking between both of your eyes so your words could sink in.

“What did I do to deserve you, Tra’laar?”

“Sprang me from jail.” You turned back to the messy baby to hide your blushing face, unwilling to wax poetic about how much you liked him while your guts demanded an audience. “Where are you more comfortable, in the sewers or in the Crest?”

“We should get back to the ship, Karga’s probably got it fueled up by now.” You nodded, finding your backpack and pulling the slightly-squashed pastries up to the top so you could stuff the icky Imp guns in the bottom for your trophy collection. When you turned back to your crewmates, however, you were greeted with an extended arm, the bent elbow of your new husband offering to escort you back to your waiting chariot. You snickered and gladly accepted the gesture, hooking your arm through his as you had done during your masquerade. The pair of you glided past where the stormtroopers bodies were stashed, scavengers would come for them eventually to strip them of their worthless armor and priceless organs; but the two of you couldn’t care less, lost in the comfort of each other's company.

The Razor Crest came into view soon enough, and your Mandalorian only pulled away from you then to fuss with his buttons and get the ramp open. As you approached the old ship you felt your heart sink at the sight of your old mask, still half-buried where it had been stomped into the obsidian gravel. You pulled it from its grave, and the remnants of its photoreceptor casings flaked away like dried leaves, confirming what you already knew; there was no saving it.

“Hey Mando, can you hit a moving target?” He scoffed at you before seeing what was in your hands, making him tilt quizzically at you.

"What happened to it? Did you drop it?"

"No. The IG units broke it."

"Fucking droids. I'm sorry ner cyare'se, I hope your new one makes you happy."

"You make me happy, buckethead."

You made to heft the mask, making a few slow pretend throws so he got the hint and let his hand hover over his pistol like a gunslinger. “Hup!” You chucked the busted thing high in the air, and his blaster snapped like a viper from his hip with a bang! The wasted durasteel exploded spectacularly in the air, raining back down as chunks of shrapnel that had you running for the Crest and giggling like a fool. Rest in pieces.

You followed Mando and the foundling up the ramp of the ship, taking a moment to run your palm over the entryway. There was a time not too long ago when you thought you would never see her again, the ship that you had made a home for yourself in. The beskar mask hid your smile as your eyes wandered over her messy interior, lingering over the cot that still had your bedroll in it and gazing lovingly at the wall panel where the armory was hidden from view; and you wondered if you would get to add your own trophies to that case. Even the empty carbonite chamber had you feeling a sense of belonging, that this is where your wild hunt would lead, time and time again. The door to the ramp closed, and you took a deep, fulfilling breath of the stuffy atmosphere of the hold. “Hello, Iron Lady, did you miss me?”

“Did you say something?” Din was working to get the child out of his pram so he could stretch his legs in the safety of the ship.

You rolled your mask up to the top of your head, the shining beskar looking like a crown fit for a queen. “Hmm? Oh, no, just an old sailor phrase. Iron Lady, queen of strife, You're my only home and wife. I know I'm bound to you for life, nor would I have another!” You belted, hearing the acoustics of the durasteel walls thrum to life with the power of your voice. You sighed, long and low as you had heard your partner do so many times, and you turned your eyes back to him; resisting the urge to screw your eyes shut at the sight of his bare face. He would have to get used to being touched, but you would have to get used to seeing the real flesh and blood of the man underneath the armor. Fucking Maker, he’s so pretty!

Din pressed kisses to your forehead, then both your cheeks, and lastly your smile; humming through his adoration. You closed your eyes and let yourself get caught up in his affections, but the tug on your shoulder gave away his sneaky thievery, and you shot one eye open to watch him pull your backpack off of you. He laughed and started digging through the ratty old bag, pulling the baked goods out for you to finally eat. You took yours greedily, stuffing the now cold loaf of goodness into your piehole, waiting for Din to do the same. He watched you with a strange look in his eye, as if he was trying to imagine himself eating vicariously through you, though he had his own meal right there in his hands.

You raised a brow at him. “What’s wrong? Did I get the wrong flavor?”

He shook his head, his chocolate pudding eyes shining up to you in a bashful, puppy-like way. “I...um… I’ve never eaten around anyone before.”

Stop being so fucking cute all the time! “Oh, ok well here let’s do this.” You plopped down on one of the many crates that littered the cabin with your back to him. “Take your rockets off and come sit behind me.” You turned away from him and waited until you heard the dull thunk of metal hit the ground and felt the crate shift with his weight. “Now lean back.” He did as he was instructed, leaning his back up against your own, and the happy sigh that rumbled out of him made your heart swell. Then the sound of loud, fast eating made you chuckle, and he froze behind you. “Oh for fucks sake the baby eats way grosser than you do. Fuckin’ go for it.” You felt his shoulders jostle with a secretive laugh, and the onslaught began anew. His breakfast disappeared in seconds, and you wondered if he even tasted it before he sucked it down. “Is that how you always eat?”

“Mmhmm.” He said with his mouth still partially full. “Nev’r know what’s coming.” You turned to watch him throw his legs around the other side of the crate, sitting perpendicular to you now so he could wrap an arm around your waist while you ate your well deserved meal. “You take your time.”

“Ah plan to.” And you did, actually chewing your food, only stopping to accept a canteen that was handed to you in lieu of your launched projectile thermos. With a happy belly you turned to your riduur, grinning right back at his sheepish little smile. “So, captain, what’s next for us?”

“Do you remember what I said last night? I want you to pick a star for me to bring you.”

The sweet sentiment made your heart swell, then promptly drop. “What about our Guild contracts?” You were expecting a groan, a sigh, or even a curse at the reminder that you had put your crew right back on the trail instead of bound for rest and relaxation; but instead you were gifted with petal-soft kisses on your cheek.

“Anywhere with you is a pleasure, riduur’ika, especially if I get to see you hunt.” He scooted closer to you on the crate, wrapping both his arms around your waist while you were still trying to eat, resting his scruffy chin in the crook of your shoulder, breathing right in your ear. “And if we see any Imps, we can hunt them down for sport.” He growled the last words with enough malice that a chill ran up your spine and broke into the light as an icy smile.

“Stars above, you do not like those fuckin’ Imps, do you?” Din nodded, making sure to rub against your cheek like a big, happy massiff. “Alright then, gimme your pucks.” One armored hand disappeared from you to dig through his belt pouches, bringing his half of the bounties into view. You scarfed down the last of your breakfast and found your own pucks to add to the pile in his grasp. Between his hand and yours, you shook your collection of captured stars, shuffling the bounties in your palms and pulling one from the stack as your choice. You held it up high in front of you like you were inspecting a jewel instead of a chunk of duraplast and wiring. “This one. Bring this one to me.” The leftover pucks were returned to his pouch, freeing himself up to run his insatiable paws over your shoulder to tug at your outstretched arm. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing fuzzy kisses to your knuckles, humming at the goosebumps that readily prickled your skin.

“As you wish.”

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djxrxn · 4 years

Text

the mediator

part one

reader x din djarin, paz vizsla, boba fett

part one, part two, part three, epilogue

warnings: cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of criminal activity, maybe a crude reference or two

wordcount: 4.4k

summary: A friend on Nevarro offers you a well-paying job, but you realize you might have bitten off more than you can chew when a Mandalorian you wronged is on planet - and in between you and your next paycheck.

a/n: okay Uh hi so welcome to the mediator lol. i’ve started school for the fall semester, everything for me is online, and i’m an art major, so Everything Is On Fire. in terms of the blog, i’m working on quite a few things so if there’s something you were looking forwards to seeing, or like a request you submitted, i have seen it don’t worry, it will be written i promise!! i can’t prioritize it all rn because classes are pretty demanding, but in the spare time i have, a Lot is in the works so !! exciting!! this fic has three parts and an epilogue, which i’m working on now!! also i absolutely have to thank @jangofctts who has let me bother her about this fic for a Hot minute she’s pretty much the reason it’s written she was very extremely helpful and was the best set of second eyes i could ask for thank u so much i love you!!!! okay enjoy!!

Maker, you hated Nevarro.

The terrain was rocky and… empty. There were no settlements or major cities - you were so used to the bustle of planets in the Inner Rim. Wealthy elites with deep pockets, neon and electricity carving a place into the long nights - it was more home than anything else had ever been. But here? It was a volcanic wasteland, the hot and sticky air wavering around you as you trudged through the gravel, making your way slowly to the only inhabited area on this shithole of a backwater planet. This was not home, it wasn’t even familiar territory.

Arrey was lucky you were friends with her.

You weren’t even sure what Ives had wanted - all you had received was a vague transmission about a job that was sure to pay well, as long as you stayed calm, conducted yourself in a civil and calm manner, that sort of thing.

“But,” the transmission had crackled, the soft baritone of Ives’ voice echoing around your cockpit, “You are the best with this sort of thing, Coins. I have no doubts.”

You scoffed when you heard the nickname. You thought you had finally left it behind, but here was Ives, bringing up that stupid nickname she gave you. She only used it when she had a job for you that would require some... finessing. It was concerning, but the last good job you had was a few bond skippers. You were low on fuel, and you were starting to dip into emergency resources. Ives’ high risk jobs usually set you up for a few months at a time, as opposed to the normal pocket change you got on a bounty.

Whatever she had in store, you could handle for a few credits.

The sun was setting behind you as you laid eyes on the poor excuse for civilization ahead of you, the vibrant oranges and pinks you were used to being represented by a growing dark haze. The small settlement - a town, a territory, a place to rest your feet for a bit - was just as dry as the rest of the planet. There were no buildings that were taller than three stories, and only a handful of ships were docked in the outskirts of town.

It would be easier to enter through a small side entrance. The front of the town would be crowded, even so late in the evening, and if you were on Mandalorian business, it was best to be subtle. You were annoyed at how familiar you were with the layout of the small town, annoyed that you knew the best way to approach the job already - even an Inner City scam job would have to be more interesting than whatever shit Ives was about to have you up to.

You slipped between the space between the two buildings, worming your way through the alley. Not much activity on the streets - you were sure that this whole planet closed up shop at soon as the sun threatened to set.

A noise of disgust left your throat as you laid eyes on the small market ahead of you. It was so… quaint. Only a few jawas and merchants were loitering around still. Even if you wanted a quick coin, you were sure that they would be much smarter than to fall for any of your schemes. However many credits it would take to get back to the Inner Rim would all have to come from Ives.

The fob gave a soft pip as you passed a stand selling spare droid bits. Metal screws and circuit boards all strewn about, a tan R2 unit beeping and chirping behind the table - the Chagrian repairing the droid gave you a glare when you passed him, but you hadn’t even noticed.

You were staring down at your wrist - a small bounty fob had been stitched to an old bracer. Wires poked out of the side, and you hadn’t been sure that it still worked. But it gave another small pip, and you couldn’t help but smile.

How many years ago had Ives Arrey given you that bracer, telling you to stick close to her on your first job together? She was much more prepared for a dangerous situation - she was quick on her trigger, ready to start firing at the drop of a pin. You’re sure that the only reason you made it out alive on that heist was how fast she was able to dispose of the other members of your team.

The fob’s beeps grew quicker and quicker as you walked through the settlement. Its little shrieks bounced off the walls and buildings. You turned a corner, following the beeps, and two gloved hands stopped you from crashing into the person in front of you. A gasp tore its way out from your throat - your hand flew to your blaster on your thigh, ripping it out of the holster and -

“Hey,” a soft baritone echoed through a voice vocoder. It was smooth and calming, and it carried a heaviness to it, like an old dark lullaby. “Relax, relax, it’s just me.”

You blinked. It was your friend but this… this was not the Ives you remembered. Her armor was dark, and had color to it - it was hard to see it in the night, but it looked like a bright green accent around the pitch black of her owl-like visor. The longer you looked at her, the more you saw the deep green that covered all of her beskar.

“You look… different,” you smiled.

“So do you,” she responded with a chuckle. “You changed your hair.”

After a shrug, you respond, “I was getting bored, but you look incredible - what, did they let you finally paint your armor?”

“Yeah, actually. I earned my signet,” she said. Ives gestured to her pauldron where a serpent was coiled up, baring its fangs.

“Wicked cool worm,” you teased, clicking off the fob around your wrist.

She punched your shoulder lightly. “Vexis,” Ives corrected. “It’s a Vexis, from Pasaana. Remember the job I took on Pasaana?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.” You rolled your eyes, but Ives huffed. Her visor tipped down in a Mandalorian glare.

“Hey,” she warned. Ives let out a little huff as you flashed a cheesy grin at her. “Maker help me, Coins ”

“Okay, okay.” You held your hands in surrender. “It’s a Vexus.”

“Remember that,” she said, turning on her heels and walking down the alleyway. It didn’t take much for you to keep up with her, her legs making smaller strides than yours did. Her cape fluttered around her ankles as she walked, and you couldn’t help but notice how Mandalorian she looked. She was…

She was intimidating.

“It’s a lot to take in, right?”

You nodded. She sighed and tugged on the edge of her glove. “Yeah, it’s still a lot for me too.”

“When did you get the upgrade?” The sun was completely gone, nothing but a small moon to show you how intricate the patterns on her armor was. Small leaves and vines had been engraved on her chest plate, a streak of yellow ran amongst every piece of beskar, and a small smear of red had been painted on under her signet.

“Actually, very recently,” she said. “A few days before, well, before you were needed.”

“Right, ” you hummed, “And that is...?”

Ives glanced over her shoulder “A very sensitive matter,” she whispered.

You huffed. Before you could even get out a comment, she continued, “That I will get to. I want to get a little bit closer.”

“Closer to?”

You were almost positive you could see her roll her eyes in the way her helmet tilted back and forth. “I’m going to need you to be a little more patient, please.”

“Ives, come on.” Your brow furrowed. You knew Ives to be careful, but this was being conservative with the details of your next paycheck. “And you’re being vague on purpose - just tell me-”

“I don’t want the wrong person overhearing,” she hissed.“ That’s all-”

“Well, well, well-” A Middle Rim accent sounded behind you, gentle and smooth. A long, armored arm crashed down onto your shoulders, and you were jerked back. “I thought I heard my favorite little criminal. I wasn’t aware that Coins stepped foot on planets that, what did you say again, ‘smelled like on fire ass’?”

You let out a small sigh of relief - you wrapped an arm around the willow torso you had been smushed up against. “Aw, Aeris, you know I couldn’t stay away from you for long.”

“Wow, I’m so honored you came all the way to see me.” You could hear the wicked smile coming through his vocal modulator. “But I know you don’t come to the Outer Rim unless you leave with heavier pockets.”

“You’re right.” It’s your turn to give a wicked smile. “I don’t.”

“So, who are you scamming this time?” He pinched your cheeks with his spare hand. “Stealing from children or widows?”

“Technically, Aeris she’s stealing from us,” Ives interjected. You gently punched his unarmored side, and he sagged on top of you with a dramatic groan.

“Mortally wounded,” he groaned. “And confused - how is she stealing from us?”

Ives paused, coming to a stand still - you almost tripped over Aeris’ feet as he mirrored her movements.

After a moment of silence, the only noise was the quiet night slowly coming to life around you, Aeris mumbled something in Mando’a under his breath after a moment, almost trying to fill the silence himself. When you looked up at his dark visor, he just shook his head.

You looked at Ives - her visor was pointed towards the ground, and she was picking at her glove again, tugging at the leather around her hands. You were familiar with these habits - you had seen Ives look at the ground and fidget with her hands hundreds of times before. She was carefully planning her next actions, quickly considering her options before she chose the best one.

She let out a low hum, and looked back at you.

“The leader of our Covert has given me authority to find a mediator to sort out a complication that arose on a job,” Ives said. “I’ve chosen you.”

You blinked. “Me?”

She gave a single nod.

“Sh-shouldn’t you find, I don’t know, maybe a Mandalorian mediator?”

“Our leader has explicitly forbidden any other Mandalorians interfering,” she explained calmly. “She wants unbiased and impartial help.”

“Even in negotiations?” You choked out.

“Oh, please,” Aeris chimed in, “Especially in negotiations. An outside perspective is supposed to be helpful.”

“Unbiased and extremely helpful, yes.” Ives added. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

“Okay, so I’m negotiating between a few Mando’s, what’s the catch?” You said, being tugged along by Aeris. Ives and Aeris both glanced at you for a moment before looking back to , neither bothering to voice what they were thinking until you continued.

“Why did you ask for me specifically?” You sighed. “And what’s the catch - if it were an easy negotiation, you could have contracted anybody in the Outer Rims.”

“Well, we do like a mediator with a sense of style,” Aeris said, nudging at Ives.

“Because I know you. I know what you’re capable of, and I know your specialties. You’re good with money, you’re good at finding a way to split it up-”

“Is this what this is about? You want me to split shares?” You groaned. “Maker, Ives, I could have done that anywhere, why did I have to come here-”

“It’s not as clean and simple as that,” she interjected. “There are three Mandalorians who need three even shares of a profit. The amount doesn’t split evenly, and all three are trying to argue that they deserve a larger portion of the credits that the others.”

You let out a short breath. “I still don’t see-”

“These Mandalorians are hostile, especially when there’s money involved.” She pointed at her signet, the Venus on her shoulder. “The Way mandates a base level of respect, but I’m afraid it’s not going to last for much longer - if someone doesn’t work this out, there’s a good chance it could get violent.”

“Let them fight it out, then. Whoever wins the fight, they get the credits - simple?” You suggested.

“Our leader has instructed us to further this out peacefully,” Ives shook her head, “As not to draw attention to us.”

“With those three di’kut, they’d start a whole galactic war over this shit, so it’d be best to keep things slightly subtle.”

“Don’t be an ass, Fenn,” Ives chided. She let out a sigh and didn’t speak for a moment, carefully chewing her next words slowly. “But Aeris has a point, they can be difficult-”

“See, there, I do have a point,” you didn’t have to see his face to know he had a smirk plastered across his face - you could practically see every emotion he felt through his arms, and his voice, and through the way he let little phrases of Mando’a out when he didn’t want anyone to know he was insulting them.

“Thank you, Aeris, it’s greatly appreciated.”

“These Mando’s really care this much about a job?” You mumbled. You apparently had a lot in common with them - you couldn’t say that you wouldn’t feel the same, but something wasn’t adding up.

Aeris shrugged. “Money goes a long way in the Outer Rim.”

“Maybe so, but how exactly did this job go down?” You asked. “I’m not really seeing an issue yet.

“I don’t know everything, but I know that Vizla and Djarin sort of bumped into each other on a quarry, which means they have to cute the profit in parts already,” he said, “But I have no idea where Fett came from, or how he got involved on the job-”

You let out a small choking noise, but Aeris continued on. “-So Djarin is pissed, naturally, because he’s out on cash, but if he thinks he can get away will all of the credits, he hasn’t met Vizsla.”

“Or Fett,” Ives added. “Which... Fett isn’t exactly known for letting money walk away.”

Aeris snorted. “Maker, Coins, you’re in for it.”

You felt like you’d been punched - the air in your lungs was stolen from you so quickly that it took you a moment to remember how to breathe in the first place. Your blood turned to ice. You felt fucking sick.

Fuck.

Fuck - fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I don't-”

Your mouth moved before you could fully think out the consequences of bowing out from the job. You would be out money, and time, and Maker, you were in the middle of fucking nowhere.

But if you took this job, you were pretty sure that the only thing you’d be walking away with was a hole in your chest from one of Fett’s rifles.

Or head. Or, fuck, probably both.

You cleared your throat. “I, uh, I don’t want this job.”

Ives snorted. “Alright, sure.”

You nudged Aeris off of you, and you planted your feet. You weren’t doing this, you couldn’t do this job.

“Ives, no. I- I can’t do this job- I won’t negotiate the shares, you’re on your own!”

Ives stopped. You hadn’t been aware that you were shouting, not until both Mandalorians turned to look at you. You swallowed - you could almost see the shock on their face through their helmets.

“We both know that you wasted too much money on fuel to turn around without something,” Ives said, her voice calm and steady. You wouldn’t expect Ives to actually shout back at you, but you couldn’t help the slightly guilt that tugged at you as she turned back around. “You need to work on your bluffing skills - quickly. They’re not gonna take any shit.”

“She’s right.” Aeris shook his head. “Since when are you bad at lying?”

They started walking again, boots stomping out a quick pattern, Aeris tugging you along by your arm, almost dragging you behind him, and you couldn’t fucking breath.

Boba Fett was cold and calculated. He was a fucking murderer - there was hardly job he didn’t follow through on, rarely a job he didn’t see finished. He took up a contract with the Empire, last official thing you heard, and then he disappeared for a few years.

Then, he reappeared, almost twice as ruthless.

You knew Fett - you only worked with him once, but you were close enough to hear the rumors that he had a personal vendetta against you. You knew that he was looking for blood, and you knew that if he was here on Nevarro, and if he knew you were here, you fucking knew you wouldn’t be leaving here alive.

“How often do you work with bounty hunters as notorious as our own Fett?” Aeris chimed, almost reading your mind.

“I- I think it's been a while,” you choked out. Your voice was trembling, they must have heard it. Aeris just cocked his head to the side, a sliver of moonlight catching on his black helmet. “But I guess it depends.”

“Depends?” He asked. “Oh, oh, of course. The money.”

His long arm curled around your neck, bringing your head closer to his torso. Aeris was limber and thin, but he was still capable of being dangerous. He was just as lethal as any other Mandalorian you were going to meet tonight.

“I almost forgot that you don’t do anything unless there’s a credit for you,” he said, his voice dripping with malice, the jab feeling like a threat. “Which, Arrey, why don’t you tell our friends here how much is at stake.”

Your stomach felt like it was twisting up into a knot. For the first time ever on a job, you didn’t even want to know about the credits - how much you were about to make, how much was being argued over it, none of it. You just wanted out.

Not that Ives would let you out, you supposed, but the less you knew-

“The bounty was for fifty-two million credits,” Ives answered. “Djarin said it was a high profile bond skipper - they had racked up thousands of millions of dollars-”

You didn’t hear the rest of Ive’s explanation. The only thing you could focus on was the rush of your blood. Your heartbeat was so loud in your own ears. The whole world faded away, slinking around you in a confusing sludge. The hot air was stifling you. It was too heavy, too thick. Your lungs couldn’t work with it, couldn’t filter through it - your chest felt light it might explode.

Fifty-two million credits.

You wanted to sleep. You wanted to close your eyes and let everything wash away. You could wake up on your ship, somewhere nice, somewhere you could get a nice breakfast. Maybe you could even find a good cup of caf. You could have a great day, and this whole shitty situation would be a distant nightmare.

Maker, you would kill to just wake up from all of this. If you fucked this up, forget Fett, you would have three Mandalorians on your ass. And if they were anything like Fett…

This was so far out of your realm of expertise. Even the job you worked with Fett was only for a couple of hundred-thousand credits. The most money you had ever worked for - acquired, earned, stolen, it didn’t matter. It was for one million credits. It was the job you met Ives on, the one where she saved your life, taught you how to rob a bank.

It was a pretty large heists for you - all you had known was petty theft and maybe a break-in, and even that was extremely rare. An old contact reached out to you, said he was trying to build up a team that wouldn’t mind cutting a few corners, and you certainly could look the other way for a few credits.

And so could Ives. You met her on Daxan IV - all grey beskar with chunks and bits missing. Old scraps of other armor had been fused into her chest plate, and her cuisses over her thigh was scraped and dented. The only pop of color was a dark green cowl that hung over her helmet, and even that was dark.

You remember making a snide comment about her bowcaster, and you remember her quietly throwing back something just as crude about how many layers you were wearing. At the end of the day, when the guns were pointed at you, that bowcaster had saved your life - Ives had saved you.

She was calm and collected in a firefight, but couldn’t handle the finessing and haggling that came with bounty hunting. You were a smooth talker, you were proud of that, but staying cool in a firefight…

You just had different priorities. Ives and you became a team, reaching out when the other needed a right hand woman for a job.

And you were grateful - Ives’ jobs were always well paying, but they normally came with a catch. One job she brought you along for was connected to the Rebellion, so the Imps were on your ass for months, one job was screwing up the numbers on a Hutt accountant’s book, one job was literally just fucking arson. There was always something - you didn’t think that there’d be something on this job, that maybe this would be the most straightforward job Ives gave you.

Well, here was the fucking catch - here were multiple fucking catches.

“Any other way you can raise the stakes, Arrey?” You snarked. Your voice sounded strained and high pitched. Maker, you wanted to at least appear like you knew what you were doing.

Ives cocked her head to the side. “Not that I can think of… Unless you have something to add, Aeris?”

You felt as he shrugged. “That’s more than I even knew.” He laughed - something short and dry, more out of cruelty than of pure humor. “Can’t wait to hear the deats when I get back.”

“Back?” You asked a little too quickly. You hadn’t seen either of them in quite a long while, and it would make you feel a lot better if they were right behind you for this entire mediation.

You could feel the little breath he let out, the small huff that made his chest expand. “Job off planet, Coins.”

You poked his unarmored sides, and leaned your head against him. “Try not to be a dumbass and get yourself killed, Fenn.”

He poked your cheek. “Only for you, chakaar.”

Ives gave him a nod as he removed his arm from you - his hand grazed your shoulder for a moment before he gave a nod back. Aeris tugged his hood over himself, the red streaks of his helmet disappearing beneath the dark wool. He turned the corner, and-

He was gone, and it was just Ives and you.

You waited a minute. Two, three, the minutes slugged along as you just waited.

“What did you do to Fett?” Ives asked quietly.

You blinked. “I- I’m sorry?”

“Aeris was too busy looking down your shirt to notice - or, maybe he didn’t even care, but you look…”

She studied you for a second, then shrugged. “You look scared as shit.”

Boba Fett had reached out to you - he needed an expendable worm who could steal, who could handle cutting corners, yadda yadda, what else was new? It was the same job description and employer type. The only thing that was different was that your boss was covered in beskar.

Job went south almost immediately. Another one of Boba’s associates sold him out to a New Republic squadron - Boba was busy handling that, but you had found the credits stashed in the lower haul, and you dipped.

Only one escape pod on the small vessel - you did feel a little bad, but it was Fett. He would probably be fine.

It was only a few days before you heard that he was looking for you.

He apparently wasn’t that serious about finding you. If he really was serious about it, you would’ve been hunted down and killed already. You head on a stake, your body on a pyre, that sort of thing. Maybe you weren’t Fett’s top priority, but you weren’t going to give him easy access to…

Well, you.

“We, uh, met on a job - like you and me, but, um,” you paused. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to tell her that you ratted out a member of her Covert - the last thing you needed, or wanted, was to cause an issue with Ives. “It didn’t go very well…”

Ives let out a low hum. “I assume you’re the reason for that?”

“Wh- me?” You let out a dramatic gasp. “I’m hurt - for your information, I am not the reason the job didn’t go as planned.”

“Oh? So what’s the reason for you being terrified at the mention of Boba?” Ives put a hand on her hip. When all you did was shrug, she clicked her tongue.

“Well, hopefully he’s forgotten what you’ve done to him by now.”

“Does he- is Fett the forgetful type?” You asked, a glimmer of hope appearing in this ridiculously shitty situation.

She shrugged and gestured to the door to your side - it was rather simple and weathered. “For your sake, I hope so.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Ives, I don’t know-”

“Coins, listen-”

She took a step towards you and gripped your shoulder. She rested her head against yours, and as you peered into the inky visor, you almost felt calm. Like maybe, you weren’t quite alone.

“Hit the fob if there’s trouble, just like always,” she said softly. “I’ll be right outside this door if you need anything, but Djarin and Vizsla should be a buffer between Fett and, uh… you.”

You placed your hand on top of hers and gave a small smile. “Thank you, Ives.”

“You’ll be fine,” she nodded. “Now, go in there, and get your paycheck.”

You nodded and you stepped towards the door. Ives tapped in a short string of numbers on the keypad. The door slid up, the cool air from inside seeping out to meet you - it was tempting, but you couldn’t forget what else was in the room besides air conditioning.

You peered into the room - and inside were three Mandalorians, whose helmets all turned to look at you.

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docheros · 3 years

Text

flower shop/tattoo studio au: new beginnings

Anthony just opened his floriculture, and from everything he planned, he didn’t expect to see a tattooed greek god™ working on the other side of the street.

Hope you’re all awake and I want to see all of you commenting because I spent almost 2 months writing this and it’s only the first chapter

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It was a sunny day, hot and with few clouds in the sky, perhaps the perfect beach day at another time. But this wasn’t a beach day, because at that very moment, Anthony was too busy organizing the last details of his new floriculture, since everything had to be just like what he and his grandmother imagined. It was the first time that he would open the store and, if all went well, fulfill his oldest dream.

Fluffing the cushions on the small sofa, he remembered how lucky he was to have gotten that spot in a popular neighborhood. It wasn’t an absurdly large property, but enough for the pink balcony, a small sofa with an armchair and lots, lots plants. Maybe in the future, he would put a little table and some sweets on the outside, so that people could also enjoy some snacks.

He sighed when he saw the whole tidy room, turning to the clock and seeing that there were still five minutes to go before the opening. Before he could check the flowers again, a knock on the door caught his eye. He turned, finding Marvin practically glued to the window.

— Get out of there! — Anti opened the door laughing, giving space for the friend to enter — Did your mother ever teach you about not supporting yourself on glass?

— Don't worry, this window is armored! — They unlocked their phone, hugging the other’s neck — Let's take a selfie so I can do the commercial for your flower shop!

— And since when are you a digital influencer? — He let go of the hug before Marvin took his picture — I thought your followers just liked to see animals on your profile.

— I also have a profile for me, okay? — she sat on the couch, waving her freshly dyed hair — I'm a beauty guru.

Anti just rolled his eyes, he had more important things to do instead of answering Marvin. For example, turn the front plate to indicate that it was open.

— Will you find me a pretty client? — they asked, still typing on their cell phone — I miss kissing on the mouth, and no single person appears in the pet shop!

— Why don’t you just go to a club? — Marvin made a face of pure disgust for Anti, who lifted his shoulders — Do I look like someone who knows how to give advice? Honestly, I only wait for old ladies and plant’s moms around here.

— It was time for a sugar mommy to appear for me.

— As if some rich old woman would want you.

— I'm not liking that character of yours, Anthony — He stood up, going to the front door — I have to go now, otherwise I'm really going to need a sugar mommy. I'll call you later!

— Bye Marvin!

Anti watched the car until he turned the street corner, leaving the man alone and the flower shop silent again, waiting for a customer to show up.

But before sitting behind the counter, he noticed the establishment across the street. Small, but intimidating: all painted in black, with a large window, three chairs in the front, and a few graffiti phrases on the door, which was certainly not part of the aesthetic. Above the window, the (off) sign with the word "TATTOOS" indicated the obvious: a tattoo studio. Anti laughed with his nose, how ironic a flower shop opens in front of a tattoo studio.

— Who is the owner? — He asked to himself, leaning on the counter. He wanted to wait for the tattoo artist to arrive, but a customer had arrived at his own store.

Yeah, he needed to start the day

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The sky was beginning to darken when the florist closed the doors, tired of the busy but productive day. Many customers showed up and many flowers were sold, Anti was sure that some would be frequent customers.

After he finished sweeping the front area, he went in again to tidy up the plants and put new ones on display for the next day. He spotted the studio across the street when he was cleaning the windows, and remembered that he hadn't seen the owner all day. Well, he was probably there, since the lights were on and some figures could be seen moving through the frosted glass. Maybe it was more than one owner?

And suddenly, all the lights turned off, and two people left the establishment. They appeared to be two men, both probably in their thirties and displaying many tattoos on both arms. The shorter one had light brown hair, a thin beard and wore glasses; the black sleeveless turtleneck and white coat tied at their waist certainly made them look like a doctor when they dressed both. The taller one had dark hair — Anti couldn't tell if it was black or brown — and a thick mustache. The white button-down blouse and dark gray vest contrasted with the thousands of tattoos on their arm and supposed profession, like a man from the 1900s with a few touches from the 2010s.

The two talked and laughed loudly, it was possible to hear from inside the floriculture. Slightly gaping, Anti saw the shortest get into a car that had just arrived and the tallest to get on a nearby motorcycle, waving at the car before the vehicle left. They stayed there for a while looking at something on their cell phone and then put it away and put on a helmet. But before giving the ignition, they raised their face to the flower shop. Anthony quickly turned around, pretending to be cleaning the chairs. Had the stranger realized that they were being stared at, or did they just want to see the name of the flower shop?

In one way or another, the florist only looked up when he heard the engine’s noise moving away. As soon as he was sure he was alone again, he sat on the couch, releasing all the air he was holding and his thoughts all over the place. How, how could someone so handsome work literally in front of him? Was this an offering from God for Anti to become a Catholic again or a temptation for some demon to lose the job he had barely won?

Because he knew he would be distracted.

Instinctively, he took out his cell phone and called a number. He needed to tell his brother everything that happened.

— Hello-

— Chase, for your son's sake, call an ambulance because I feel like I'm going to die.

— WHAT? Anthony, what happened?

— Oh man — He passed the right hand over his mouth, wiping sweat — I opened my flower shop, right? Right, beautiful, very cool. Everything was going really well UNTIL I found out that there is a tattoo studio in front of me and-

— Calm down, tattoo studio? In front of your flower shop?

— I thought the same thing! Irony, right? Anyway, there is the tattoo studio, right, and it looks like there are two guys who work there, or whatever. And listen, Chase, there's one that is SO HANDSOME like, Chase, Chase you don't understand me, the guy is everything I ever wanted in a boyfriend.

— Damn, even the mustache?

— EVEN THE MUSTACHE! I didn't get to talk to them, but just because of the appearance, the guy has already won 50% of me and, and… — he took a pillow nearby, muffling his scream — Chase I should have gone to more teenage parties to learn how to relate to people. Beautiful, very beautiful people.

— You really should. Now seriously, how was the first day?

— Ah, nothing impressive. But do you believe that…

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

anti i feel you i also like mustachioed men

ik you already know who the two men are, but i talked about them with they/them pronouns because it’s partially anti’s pov dksjsdkfkdj

yeah hope you liked it

#i'm writing!!#antisepticeye #jameson jackson #ego shipping #dapperanti #antidapper #dapperanti my beloved #flower shop/tattoo studio au

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cherrycocaineee · 3 years

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9. Edward Elric - Old Friends

Soft glowing rays of sunlight slipped through the curtains, touching my cool, pale skin. From downstairs, I could smell the incredible scent of Pinako’s cooking coming from beneath the door as my eyes opened. Winry’s footsteps echoed throughout the hall, each echo getting closer and closer. Within seconds, she was at my door knocking on it then barging in. “Hinata!” She chirped, happily, “it’s time to wake up!” I pulled my body into the upright position, swinging my legs off my bed and touching the freezing wood with my bare feet. Softly rubbing my eyes, I listened to Winry tell me that she was going to be busy for a while and that there would be visitors coming later today. Normally Pinako and Winry told me who would be stopping by but recently, they’ve been keeping that a secret. I wasn’t sure if to surprise me, not that I had anyone to see anymore, or because they didn’t want me to worry about it. Either or, it was annoying because I didn’t like being kept in the dark. Plus, things between us were already weird for me, I didn’t want it to be weirder. “Are you even listening, Hinata?” Winry’s voice whined. I blinked several times, the spots in my eye floating away, before looking at her, “of course, Winry.” The two of us smiled at each other before she left to give me some privacy while I changed. After my shower, I dried and brushed out my long black hair, noticing that it almost reached my butt, then added some chapstick to my pink lips watching myself in the mirror with my grass green eyes. Next, I threw on some fresh clothing; nothing too special, just a light purple, short sleeve, cropped shirt and some black leggings that went to my knees. As I came down the stairs, I could hear Winry and Pinako speaking to one another while Winry was setting the table for breakfast. “It’s definitely been a long time, huh?” Winry asked, almost dreamily. “It sure has,” Pinako whispered, “seeing both of them again.” “Are you sure it’s a good idea to hide this from Hinata?” “Her and Ed didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I don’t want to stress her out with a visit from him so suddenly. Maybe the sudden visit will prompt the two of them to remember how good of friends they were.” “Ed sure has changed a lot, and so has Hinata.” I walked into the kitchen and looked at them. Pinako and Winry greeted me with a warm smile which I returned, despite finding out that they were keeping Edward Elric’s appearance a secret from me. Like Pinako said, Ed and I didn’t leave on good terms. It was complicated really, we were so young that I don’t even think it would be something he would even remember. I wanted to go with him and Alphonse, to train alongside them as Alchemist and help them get their bodies back, however, Ed had told me that I was weak. That there wasn’t anything I could bring to the table, unlike Winry since she was both raised by doctors and completely into automail. The whole argument hurt my feelings and we ended up never speaking again. After Ed and Al left to join the military, I left too, telling Pinako that there was no point in me sticking around since I was useless anyways. Though she tried to talk me out of it, I left anyway. While travelling, I met an old man named Haru who was incredible when it came to hand-to-hand combat and possessed strong Alchemy. After some begging, Haru eventually took me in and trained me before he passed away. I now had two transmutation circles carved into both my wrists allowing me to use ice and fire alchemy, as well as me being able to do hand-to-hand combat. However, even to this day, Ed’s words whispered to me in the back of my head. “She’s doing it again,” Winry sighed, dragging me out of my head, “honestly, Hinata, you zone out way too often.” I giggled softly, “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about Edward and Alphonse returning home.” Both their eyes widened as I shoveled a mouth full of porridge into my mouth. Once I swallowed, I addressed their confusion. “I overheard the two of you talking when I was coming downstairs.” “You were eavesdropping,” Pinako grumbled, shaking her head while chuckling. A sweat drop appeared on my forehead as I laughed nervously, wondering how she always knew. The three of us continued eating breakfast while enjoying some small talk about nothing really. Winry, of course, was speaking about upgrading her automail techniques to make stronger limbs. I’ve seen a lot of her sketches and believe wholeheartedly that she would definitely be able to do something like that once she put her mind into it. When breakfast was over, I started cleaning up the dishes for Pinako so she could relax. Winry was up in her room working. Time passed slowly as I cleaned up, glancing at the clock each minute, before there was barking coming from outside where Pinako and Den sat. I could feel my chest tighten as I heard Winry bouncing down the steps to greet both the Elric brothers, picturing a wrench in her hand as she hit Ed upside the head. Something I had learned from Pinako that she started doing when they visited. I picked up the red and white checkered kitchen towel to dry my hands, not taking my eyes off the freshly wiped down table. From inside the kitchen, I could hear them speaking and even heard another voice I didn’t recognize. For some reason, I started to feel drained. Thinking I could make it to my room undetected, I moved quickly. Winry, on the other hand, had different plans. Quickly running inside before I reached the steps and snatching up my hand, dragging me outside despite my extreme protest to just go to my room. All of my nerves were shot and I started to feel sick to my stomach, yet Winry kept dragging me out to meet the brothers. Bright rays of sunlight assaulted my eyes as I felt my feet touch the porch. Winry called out to Ed and Al as the spots in my eyes faded away. I was greeted with the sight of Pinako, Den, Al, who was still in his armor, Ed, who wasn’t wearing his automail arm prompting his sudden visit, and a muscular male that I didn’t recognize. “Ed! Al!” Winry sang, “look who else is here! It’s Hinata!” She had let go of my arm and I saw Ed smile wide. Even Al seemed excited, which I could only tell by him calling for me cheerfully. They both ran towards me, my heart racing as they got closer. Before they could get even closer, I slammed my hands together and touched the ground, shards of ice crystallizing and stopping in front of them making them halt abruptly. Winry and Ed’s eyes widened, but I only turned away and went to my room, locking the door behind me and sliding down. My knees pressed against my chest as I started hearing Ed’s words play over and over in my head. My earlier assumption was correct: Ed didn’t remember the hurtful things he said to me. Hot tears poured from my eyes while I sobbed quietly into my hands.

Hours passed and the sun was now sitting over the house creating the afternoon heat I was so use to. I had finally stopped crying, tear streaks stained my flushed cheeks, but still remained in front of the door. I hadn’t realized how out of it I was until I heard a quiet tap on the door, noticing that I hadn’t even heard the footsteps approaching. My breath hitched in my throat as I listened. “Hinata,” Al said, his voice quiet and sweet, “it’s Alphonse. Can I come in?” Al and I have always gotten along, and even during my fight with his brother, he defended me. Slowly, I climbed to my feet and turned the doorknob, the soft breeze from the hall running into my room as I opened the door. Al stood there with a plate in his hand, the plate holding a single slice of apple pie with a dollop of whipped cream on top just how I liked it. Opening the door wider, I stepped to the side and he came in. The cinnamon aroma piggybacking onto the breeze and entering my nose making my mouth water. With Al inside, I closed the door and sat back down in front of it, him joining me. “Granny said to give this to you,” he finally said, “thought it might make you feel better.” “Thank you,” I whispered, taking the plate in my hands, feeling the heat radiating off the bottom. We were quiet for a moment, but it wasn’t an awkward silence, it was comforting. I decided to ask him about the man I had seen earlier. “Who was that other guy with you?” I asked, turning my green eyes to meet his glowing pink sockets. “Oh, that’s Major Armstrong,” he answered, “Ed kind of works with him.” “You don’t?” “Not as a state alchemist. I couldn’t become one because they had to do a physical, but you know.” The physical would reveal that Al wasn’t exactly 100% Al, just a soul bound to a suit of armor. Nodding my head, I turned my attention back to the melting cream on the apple pie. Setting it on the ground, I wrapped my arms around my legs. “You’re still mad at Ed, huh?” Al asked. “I’m not mad,” I said, shaking my head, “but I’m not going to pretend it never happened either.” “Are you going to speak to Ed about it?” “How? We both know Ed isn’t one to sit and talk about something, he’s not in tune with female emotions.” “Brother’s changed a whole lot since the last time you’ve seen him. If anything, he’s become quite emotional as well.” A soft laugh erupted from Al’s metal suit making me smile. For a while Al and I conversated with one another. Him telling me stories of their travels, the search for the philosopher stone, and more; then I told him about Haku and my training, explaining how I learned Alchemy and the different Alchemy I could do. Though eventually he had to go downstairs to see Pinako and Winry, telling me to come join them when I was ready. When he was gone, I sat on my bed with the pie before eating it. My mind was racing with different ideas of what to do. Should I go out there and see Ed, talk to him about the things he said to me or do I just sit in my room until he leaves? I stared at the empty plate in my hand. “Guess I’ve got to go down there anyway.” Putting on my slippers, I walked out of my room and headed to the kitchen. All except for Ed, who was standing, were sitting around the table. Den was holding a bouquet of white flowers in his mouth and I knew that Ed was heading to his mother’s grave. When I walked in, everyone looked at me. I placed my plate in the sink. “Hinata,” Pinako called, “come over here and meet Major Armstrong.” Deciding it was better not to argue, I walked over to everyone. Major Armstrong held out his hand, a bright smile appeared on his face. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Hinata,” he said, “I’m Alex Louis Armstrong.” “It’s nice to meet you as well, Major,” I greeted kindly. I decided to join them, even if I didn’t talk. Just seemed like the right thing to do. Soon though, Ed was leaving to go to the graveyard. Waving goodbye, he headed for the kitchen door before stopping suddenly, his gloved hand releasing the door as he turned towards me. “Hinata, why don’t you come with me?” He asked, a small, hopeful smile on his face. “O-okay,” I said, standing up and following him out the house, Den following close behind. Even though I wasn’t looking at them, I could feel the others smiling in satisfaction. Ed opened the door for me and we started off towards his mother’s tombstone. It would be a lengthy walk and because neither of us were talking to one another, it was quiet too. Like this morning, the time seemed to pass at a snail's pace. I noticed that Ed was stealing glances at me the entire time, fiddling with the hem of his red coat sleeve. I raised my eyebrow curiously before turning to face him completely. His cheeks flared up, turning a light pink. “How long are you going to be here for?” I finally broke our silence because it was becoming too awkward. “Winry said my automail should be fixed in three day,” he stated, “so I assume in three days.” “You aren’t going to stay longer?” “I can’t. Al and I are still…” “Searching for the philosopher stone, I know.” I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was disappointed, part of me was hoping that Ed and Al would stay a little while longer. I’d missed them, despite us leaving on bad terms. “You know,” Ed continued, “when I told Winry and Granny that I was coming home, I was kind of hoping you’d be here. The last few times I’d come, you hadn’t been. They said you left after that day.” I nodded, “I did. I didn’t want to be a burden on Pinako and Winry like I was on you.” As the words left my lips, I stared at the gravel beneath my feet. I hadn’t noticed that Ed had stopped walking until he grabbed my arm making me face him. Hot wind caught in both our hairs, brushing my own locks against my face. “I never thought of you as a burden.” “Considering the other things you said to me before you left, I didn’t think you needed to.” “Hinata, I shouldn’t have said those things and I should have apologized a lot sooner.” I just stared at him, unsure of what to do or even say. Instead, I just retracted my hand and looked away. Soon the two of us continued walking towards his mom’s grave, making small talk. When we got to the tombstone, I read Trisha Elric’s name on the large stone head piece. Trisha and I hadn’t known each other, she passed before I had the chance to meet her, and honestly, it made me sad because the way everyone spoke about her made her seem like she was the most amazing woman ever. Ed kneeled down and removed the old crumbling flowers from the grave, and replaced them with the fresh ones that Den had carried all the way here. I knew Ed wasn’t religious, so I wasn’t expecting him to pray, so I went ahead and did so silently. It just felt like the right thing to do. As I was finishing up my prayer, I heard Ed sniffle causing me to open my eyes and look at him. “Do you know why I said those things to you, Hinata?” He inquired, his voice low and quiet. I just watched him, the only thing I could even think to do. Ed only stood up, not wanting to face me and let me see the tears streaming against his face. I felt a small lump form in my throat as Ed started speaking again, answering his own question since I was unable to. “I know it was harsh, I know that when I said it there was a possibility that you would never forgive me afterwards. But I couldn’t lose you too.” “What do you mean?” I croaked, ready to let tears spill from my own eyes once more. “I already lost my mom,” he whispered, choking back his sobs, “I lost Al when we decided to dude that stupid human transmutation. If I’d taken you with me, I was afraid I’d lose you. All the things I’ve seen so far in the last few years, they’re dangerous. I’ve almost been killed several times and I didn’t want you to get hurt. So when I showed up here and you thought I’d just forgotten, I didn’t. I had just hoped that you’d understand once you saw me that it was dangerous.” I had seen him. He was missing half of his metal arm when he had arrived, and he was covered in bruises and scratches. Of course, even before he and Al left, I knew it was going to be dangerous. If I was being completely honest, I didn’t even want them to go, afraid that one day Pinako, Winry, and I would get the word that Edward and Alphonse were no longer with us. That I had lost two of my bestest friends. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to Ed and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Well, I don’t need to be protected anymore,” I muttered, “even though your words hurt me a lot, and even though I’m still having a hard time getting them out of my head, they’ve helped me a lot. With those words, I was able to find my way to Haru and was trained. I’m more than capable of protecting myself now.” “If you’re going to ask to come along now, my an-” “I’m not asking your permission, Ed,” I snapped, annoyed, “I’m going. Obviously you and Al need my help. After all, six eyes are better than four.” Ed and I looked at one another, my hand sliding off of his shoulder as I smiled up at him. He was a bit taller than me, something he always appreciated. Ed wiped away his stray tears then returned my smile. “You’ve definitely gotten bolder than when we were kids.” “And you’ve definitely become much more intune with your emotions.” The two of us shared a laugh before heading home. All the way home, Ed and I laughed and chatted up about things that have happened to them as they were gone. He told me about all the colorful characters in his life, including who he called a “pain in his ass”: Roy Mustang. When Ed and I got back to Pinako’s home, everyone was standing outside even Winry who had just moved her work outdoors. Den barked and took off running towards Pinako. Ed smiled wide before taking off towards our friends and family. I stopped in my tracks, staring at the sight before me, noticing all of them at once. Though I didn’t know Major Armstrong very well, just talking to him for a few minutes made me feel nice. And as I watched them, I smiled to myself. This was nice. Being around all these people. It felt nice to not be alone anymore.

#fma #fma fanfiction #fanfiction #edward elric #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #edward elric fanfiction #elric brothers #fmab fanfiction #winry rockbell #fluff #imagine #Anime / Manga #fmab imagines #edward imagines #pinako rockbell #major armstrong #roy mustang #central command

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peppersonironi · 4 years

Text

Batfam Avengers Crossover Chapter Two: Meeting

Chapter Two, folks! Finally some batfam appearances.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types

Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne, Natasha Romanov & Damian Wayne, Clint Barton & Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tim Drake & Duke Thomas, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd,

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Justice League (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Alfred the Cat (DCU), Bat-Cow (DCU), Goliath (DCU), Selina Kyle’s Cat Isis, Kate Kane (DCU), Duke Thomas,

Additional Tags: Batbrothers (DCU), Avengers Meet The Batfam, MCU/Batfam crossover, Crossover, no beta we die like robins, rated T for Jason’s language, I bleeped it out though. Just to be safe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon? What’s canon?, Deaf Clint Barton,Deaf Character, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Happy Batfamily (DCU), Birdflash and joyfire are implied/referenced,

Summary: Avengers enter the cave, and meet the batfam!

Notes: In sorry if this chapter is a bit boring, I tried to keep it light. (I know the techie stuff that I glossed over bored even me) But now that I’m done with the first introductory chapters, I can move to some - hopefully - more fun scenarios!

“Woah.” Peter looked around at the giant cavern that the Green Lantern guy had flown them into. His ring had formed some kind of platform to carry them, and Peter was still theorizing how it worked.

They had flown toward the city - named Gotham apparently - following the mysterious “Batman”. Then reached a waterfall, which had a huge mechanical door system that parted the water. They had gone through a long pathway lit up on the edges before emerging in the cave.

It was huge, with multiple platforms built into the rock. Peter first found himself on one that was clearly meant for vehicles, as there were multiple motorcycles parked beside where Batman’s car stopped. There were other levels that held gym equipment, a sparring ring, weapons stations, and some sort of lab. There was weird memorabilia too. Peter spotted a giant penny, dinosaur, and a Joker playing card. A few more levels had cases for suits, not unlike that which Mr. Stark had. Though some of the suits were strange. One was clearly bloody and ripped. One of the most prominent platforms held a huge computer with a dominating black chair.

However, Peter could have sworn it was playing … The Dinosaur Game? That was weird.

Batman got out of his car the way he had before and made his way over toward the Avengers, where they had been set down by Green Lantern. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a very loud voice called out in the cave, startling everyone except the Batman.

“Bruce! Where the F*** is my AK-47?!”

The Hulk, who had since transformed back into Bruce Banner, frowned in confusion.

No one got the chance to question it, however, because a young man in a skin tight black bodysuit swung from another level, and was now hanging upside down from a support beam near Batman. He had a blue bird on his chest, Peter thought it looked a bit like an eagle. He also had on a black domino mask.

“Hey B!” He said cheerily. “ I should probably warn you that Hood is on a rampage ‘cause he can’t find his gun. And also Robin is threatening everyone as per usual. ” The Dark Knight sighed. “What about Red Robin, Spoiler, and Oracle? ”

The new comer grinned. “Dinosaur Game Championship. Oracle is in the lead.”

There was a sudden shout of disapproval from where the apparent game seemed to be held.

“And Signal?”

“Taking weapons stock while muttering about how insane we all are.” He shook his head. “He seems to forget he’s one of us, and therefore crazy by association.”

The Dark Knight sighed once more, this time with his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “Thank you Nightwing. Would you tell Red Hood that his AK-47 is in the Med Bay where he left it when he was doing his stitches? And tell everyone to meet in the conference room in uniform. Code 27G.”

Nightwings eyes - well, lenses - widened. He glanced at the Avengers. “Huh. Sure can do B.”

He swung up from his perch, flipped onto the platform above him - Peter was pretty impressed at how casually he did so - and ran off, seemingly melting into the shadows.

An awkward silence followed, with the Avengers all huddling protectively together. Peter really wanted to explore - that T-Rex looked awesome - but he saw the worried look on Mr. Stark’s face. This was an unfamiliar situation. They must be cautious.

A moment later Peter had had enough of caution. “Excuse me sir, is that a dinosaur?”

The Dark Knight turned toward Peter and glared. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Mr. Stark tense up. But a split second later the glare softened. “Yes. Animatronic. From one of my early … endeavors.”

Peter grinned under his mask. “Cool!”

Batman lifted his head, and began walking on a path up. “Come, I’ll show you where we can talk.”

*****

They entered a meeting room that was off to the side of the cave. There was already a group present. They were clumped loosely in a corner, boredom and intrigue apparent on their faces. They all stood to attention when Batman walked into the room, all except for Nightwing from earlier. He was currently in a handstand in the center of the conference table, shifting from one hand to the other. He collapsed onto the table at the sight of the arrivals, before quickly jumping to his feet and saluting with an embarrassed grin on his face. Batman rolled his eyes and they all went back to what they were doing, except Nightwing who slumped into a chair.

The group of teeneagers were dressed in more skin-tight suits. Peter was slightly taken aback by how young they were. The smallest seemed to be around ten - perhaps he was this “Robin” mentioned earlier - and the oldest in his early twenties. Most seemed to be about his own age though, in their mid teens. It felt weird to not be the only kid.

The closest was a young man sitting in one of the chairs with his feet on the table. He seemed to be taller than Nightwing, with a broader chest. He wore gray cargo pants, some sort of utility belt, an armored shirt with a red bat on it, a leather jacket, and a red helmet that looked a lot like Tony’s. Peter could already imagine the copyright complaints from their resident billionaire. The man also had gun holsters on each leg, and was stroking a - newly returned - AK-47 in his arms.

The first teenager had black bottoms and red top with a black and gold “X” over his chest, joined by some symbol that looked vaguely like an “R”. He also had a black cape and smooth cowl. He was standing in the corner, leaning against a wall with a tablet and mug of coffee in hand.

A teenage girl stood beside the teen, dressed in a mostly purple with hints-of-black bodysuit and a purple hooded cape. She wore a full black mask over her face, with only white lenses. It was a bit freaky, but she was mostly non-threatening, due to her easygoing posture and laugh, which was directed at the teen with the cowl.

The kid was dressed in black leggings, green boots and gloves, a red and yellow tunic with an “R” on it, black and yellow hooded cape, and green domino mask. Though the strangest thing about him was the huge Katana he was sharpening while sitting at the table. He also had an unimpressed glare on his face. Peter decided that he and Helmet-Guy were the scariest in the room. Aside from Batman.

Another teenaged boy had a tired look on what Peter could see of his face, as he looked slightly disapprovingly at his companions. He stood in more heavily plated bright yellow and black armor with a bat symbol on it. He had a utility belt, and a helmet which looked to be shaped like a bat.

What was with these people and bats?

Peter didn’t get to ask, as at that moment a new person joined the group. Flying down a ramp was a red headed young woman in a wheelchair. She expertly slowed to a stop in front of Batman, who had not yet entered the room. Peter noticed that she had hastily applied a black domino mask, leaving a pair of glasses in her lap, along with a laptop.

“Sorry I’m late B, I forgot where I had put my extra mask. These things keep disappearing!” She said the last part while glaring at the kids.

“It’s fine, Oracle. Now that we’re all here-” He paused, then looked around at the group. “Where’s Black Bat?”

“Handling a Robbery downtown. She’s finishing up. ETA 20 minutes.”

Batman nodded. “Very well, we’ll continue without her, she won’t mind.”

He entered the room, ushering everyone else to do so as well. With a quick glare, all the kids sat down. The Avengers joined them, as there were plenty of seats. The only one who did not sit was Batman.

He spoke once everyone was ready, mainly directing his words to the kids. Peter briefly wondered what it would be like to actually be respected like that, but shook off the thought. Batman quickly and efficiently summarizes the events, including several readings of the energy sources, which only the red and black teen seemed to understand as he nodded along, looking fascinated. Once he was done, Batman turned to the Avengers. “Names. No need to share personal identities if you are uncomfortable. Though since we are from different earths, I doubt it would matter.”

“Everyone already knows our identities on our earth,” Mr. Stark said, receiving several weird looks from the teens. “So it’s not a problem for us.” He removed his face plate. “Tony Stark, I’m Iron man in the suit, which I built myself.” He gestures to Steve Rogers next.

“Captain America, Steve Rogers. Our resident super soldier and senior citizen.” Steve frowned at the last comment.

“Bruce Banner,” Mr. Stark said next, “Alter ego is the Hulk. Anger Issues and Gamma radiation galore.”

Red Robin perked up. “Cool! How did-” He was cut off by a glare from Batman.

“This is Thor Odinson, named… well, Thor. God of lightning, has a hammer. You can call him Sparky Sparky Boom Man.” A pause. “Yeah, maybe just stick with Thor.”

“Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye. Our long distance weapons specialist.” Mr. Stark gestured to Clint’s bow for good measure. The kids giggled and whispered something to each other that sounded like ‘Green Arrow knockoff ’, though Peter didn’t get it.

“Black Widow, Natasha Romanov. Intelligence expert, and ex-assassin.” This got a bunch of whispers from the kids.

Peter was the last to be introduced. He pulled off his mask while Mr. Stark said “The kid’s Peter Parker, our rookie, also known as Siderman ”

“You sure it’s Spiderman,” Helmet-Guy said.

Peter glared. “Yes.”

“Red Hood,” Batman said, frowning. “No antagonizing the interdimensional visitors.”

Red Hood just shrugged and went back to stroking his gun.

The Avengers just sat around awkwardly. The Woman jabbed her elbow into Superman’s ribs, which got him talking.

“Oh… It’s only fair we introduce ourselves, since it isn’t really official earlier.” This time it was Superman who spoke. “I’m Superman, known as Kal-El, a kryptonian. Human name is Clark Kent.”

Huh, he didn’t look like an alien.

“Here we have Wonder Woman, an amazon, demigoddess, and princess. Secret Identity is Diana Prince.” He gestured to the woman, who, despite just being called a princess, looked very threatening indeed.

“Martian Manhunter, a martian known as J’onn J'onzz. Civilian name is John Jones. Yes, quite original.” The Martian nodded in greeting, and Peter was seriously freaking out. A real martian!? Cool!

“Flash, a speedster also known as Barry Allen.” The man pulled back his cowl as Superman spoke.

“S’up?” He asked with a smile.

“And Hal Jordan, one of the Green Lanterns.”

“The best Green Lantern.”

Batman grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “keep telling yourself that.”

Superman turned to Batman, but before he could, the Dark Knight spoke. “I can do it myself Clark.” He lifted his hand and removed his cowl to reveal a handsome man in his early to mid thirties with black hair and blue eyes. “Batman, also known as Bruce Wayne.”

He turned toward the kids. “These are my kids, as well as partners.”

He started with Nightwing. “Nightwing, aka Richard Grayson. My eldest.” Richard grinned and removed his domino mask. He too had blue eyes.

“Call me Dick,” he said.

“Red Hood, aka Jason Todd, my second eldest.” Jason pressed some button or something on his helmet and took it off to reveal… a domino mask. After a quick glare from Bruce, he sighed and took it off. Revealing black hair and blue eyes.

“Red Robin,” there was a soft ‘yum’ that came from the corner, though Peter couldn’t tell who said it. “Aka Tim Drake.” Tim pulled his cowl back and grinned. He had black hair and blue eyes.

“Over there is Signal, aka Duke Thomas, my ward.” The teen took off his helmet, revealing yet another black-haired kid. Though Duke was clearly african american, and had brown eyes.

“Next is Robin aka Damian Wayne, my youngest.” Damian sneered as if he were above everyone around him.

“Spoiler, aka Stephanie Brown, is a family friend.” Stephanie waved.

“I’m also his ex,” Stephanie said, jutting her thumb at Tim.

Tim groaned. “When will you stop introducing yourself like that?”

“When it stops getting under your skin.”

Tim sank back in his chair and flung an arm over his eyes.

Batman sighed once more. “Oracle, aka Barbara Gordan. Also a family friend, and our tech specialist.” Baraba nodded in recognition. “Now that introductions are out of the way, we must discuss how you got here, and how you’ll get back.”

Everyone nodded and began the discussion. Mr. Stark started off the explanation, going over Anagnorisis, the compound, the gun that they got hit with, and how they ended up in the crater.

The other adults - mainly Batman - popped in, talking about the calculations for such an interdimensional jump. Peter listened intently, as he found it utterly fascinating, but didn’t add anything. Then Tim spoke, listing off a series of numbers and variables, that were received with nods. Peter was a bit jealous that he spoke so easily. So Peter decided to add something later on, a small comment about energy sources. When he did, the conversation stopped. Peter thought he was dead meat for interrupting, but then Bruce - Wayne, not Banner - spoke.

“The kid’s smart.”

Mr. Stark smiled proudly.

A moment later the conversation continued. They went on for almost a half hour, and even Peter was getting a bit bored. He could tell the other kids were too. The girls seemed to have gotten back to their Dinosaur Game championship, and there were small cheers and groans coming from their corner every so often. Jason and Damian had yet to set aside their weapons, though they had begun a small conversation too quiet for Peter to hear. The only people who seemed to be paying attention were Dick and Tim, though Dick clearly didn’t understand half the words that were being tossed around.

The adults seemed to be disinterested as well, namely Barry and Hal, who were in the middle of a thumb war. When they inevitably got too loud, Batman sent a glare their way. The other members of the Justice League seemed to only be listening out of courtesy. As were Thor and Clint. Natasha seemed to be focussed more on the kids. She had a small frown on her face, as if something about them bothered her.

Everyone paid attention when Batman spoke next, however. “It should take at least a week to charge up the energy sources and prepare a device to send you home.”

Peter perked up. “That’s not that long. Have you dealt with interdimensional travel in the past?”

Several of the kids groaned. “Don’t remind me,” Stephanie said.

“Worst twenty-six hours of my life!” Dick agreed.

Then Jason spoke, and Peter was speechless.

“It was almost as bad as that time I died. Now that wasn’t a fun evening.”

“You died?” Natasha said, clearly confused and worried.

“I’m better now,” he said as if referring to a common cold. Jason had a small smirk on his face as he shrugged.

“Back to the discussion at hand,” Batman said, glaring at Jason. “Yes, Peter, we have dealt with the multiverse before. It should be fairly simple to locate your dimension and send you back. The only problem is powering the device. It requires Superman flying out to the sun and placing the energy core inside to fuel it. It needs to remain there for over a week.”

“You can fly to the sun?” Mr. Stark asked. “How do you survive?”

Clark shrugged. “I have impenetrable skin, and a very high melting point.”

No one questioned this, though Peter was quite intrigued.

“Where will they stay?” Dick asked, which caused a sudden silence.

“Does the Watchtower have enough rooms available?” Barry asked.

“What’s the Watchtower?” Peter asked.

“Our space station,” Diana answered, much to Peter’s delight, “and no, we have those visiting Green Lanterns, remember? Hal has been grousing about it all this week.”

“I was not!” Hal said, then sighed. “Okay, maybe I was, but that’s beside the point. What about your farmhouse, Clark?”

Clark shook his head. “Under renovation. Speaking of which I need to head over there after this. Lois will have a cow if I’m late.”

There was silence after that, as everyone was thinking. Then Stephanie got a - slightly evil, Peter thought - smile on her face. “What about the Manor? God knows we have enough space.”

“You don’t even live here!” Tim said.

Bruce glared at Stephanie for a bit then sighed. “The Manor would work. Though why anyone would want to stay with you rabble rousers is beyond my understanding.”

Jason snorted. “Says the guy who adopted us all willingingly.”

Batman grumbled, but was saved from replying as a sudden noise came from the door.

The meeting room had a wide glass window next to the exit - which was open - so Peter had a good view of the sleek black motorcycle that entered the cave, upon which rode a figure dressed all in black. The motorcycle was parked and yet another costumed teen - this time a girl - strolled toward the conference room.

She was dressed in head to toe black, in the form of a skin tight suit. She also had a yellow utility belt, and outline of a bat on her chest. She wore a black cape and cowl which had pointed ears and covered her whole face. There seemed to be some form of stitching across her mouth, which was quite creepy.

She walked forward and entered the room quickly. Bruce smiled upon seeing her.

“Ah, Black Bat. How was the robbery?”

She motioned with her hands in a way that Peter didn’t understand. It seemed vaguely like that sign language which he’d seen Clint use.

Whatever it was, Batman seemed to understand. “Very good. These are our visitors. Code 27G. They’ll be staying at the manor till we can send them back.”

Black Bat reached up and took off her cowl revealing an asian girl around eighteen year old with a black bob. “Good,” she said. “Names?”

“We’re allowing them. Over there we have Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker, and Bruce Banner.”

“Bruce?” She asked with a smirk.

Batman sighed. “Yes.” He turned to the group. “This is my Daughter Cassandra Cain. Alias is Black Bat.”

Everyone muttered small hellos, except Jason who said something with the word “favorite” in it. Cassandra didn’t seem bothered by the lack of enthusiasm. She just smiled and walked over to Damian.

“Seat. Mine.” She spoke simply.

Peter thought the kid would just sneer, but instead he quickly moved over. He could have sworn the kid looked scared. Perhaps the kid was all bark and no bite.

“Well, if that’s all, I really should be going,” Clark Kent said as he rose from the table. “Good luck with staying at the manor. See ya kids.”

“Bye Uncle Supes,” The kids chorused

“I should be going as well,” Barry said. I’m needed at the station.”

Soon the rest of the league left, and the Avengers were left alone with the bats and birds.

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catsnkooks · 4 years

Text

Safe, Secure, and Warm

summary: you were told vicious bounty hunters lived in the desert beyond your city, but you would quickly find out not all stories are true

pairing: clan leader!Paz Vizla x reader

warnings: mentions of space slavery, pregnancy, just fluff really

word count: 2.5k

a/n: hello again!! me and @lesqui have constant yearning hours for @magichandthing‘s clan leader!mandos concept so have a clan leader!Paz Vizla fic. i’m also trying to drown the hurt of the clone wars season finale in fluff but that just means i’m free to write angst now :’)

here it is on ao3!!

---

You awoke to a heavy pressure draped across your waist and soft breaths ticking your ear. You blinked your eyes, stifling a yawn, ad scooted closer to the warmth of the chest against your back. Your small hand wrapped around the fingers of the much larger one that rested against your stomach. You smiled into your pillow.

You felt safe, secure, and warm, exactly the opposite of the way you felt when Paz Vizla and his clan first found you.

A year ago now, you ran away from home, or, really, the place you’d lived and called “home” your entire life. Born in slavery to a household that served the Hutts, you hadn’t known much else than the dusty walls of your masters’ house. As you grew older and the harsh environment wore down on you, you plotted your escape. Your masters hosted a party for other powerful families allied with the Hutts, and it was a perfect night for an escape, after everyone went to bed, drunk off the alcohol you served them while they talked about you and the other slaves. Your heart beat angrily in your chest as you listened to what they wanted to do to you and you listened to the clinking of credits being exchanged, your whole life boiled down to a few meager credits.

You slipped out in the dead of the night, with only your one set of clothes and a small bag with your meager possessions. Warnings from everyone rang in your ears about the wilderness beyond the house, about the dangerous hunters that supposedly lived out there. But at this point, you didn’t care. They couldn’t be worse than what awaited you back in your masters’ hands.

You walked until your feet felt numb and collapsed behind a small rocky outcrop, shivering as icy cold winds swept across the desert. You clutched your pack to your chest. Your eyelids drooped closed as the cold settled into your bones. You had hoped you could have a life outside of slavery, outside of everything you knew, but if you were to die out here in the cold desert, then so be it. At least you were free.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, you heard something out in the desert. You heard the sound of rockets roaring then ceasing, hasty footsteps approaching you, then a shout in a language you couldn’t understand. You blinked your eyes open slowly, focusing on a large man that was now crouching in front of you. The moonlight barely shined off his dull blue armor, but it glinted off the shiny black T of his visor and the two white horns attached to his helmet. You whimpered and tried to turn away from his gloved hand as he reached out to you.

“Shh, mesh’la,” he whispered, his voice distorted from behind his helmet. He turned and accepted a cloak from someone behind him, turning back to drape it around your shivering frame. “Everything will be over soon.”

He picked you up, tucking the cloak further around you, and his jetpack roared to life. You felt dwarfed in his embrace as he effortlessly carried you in the air over miles of desert. You rested your weary head against his shoulder and fell asleep.

The next thing you knew, you woke up on a small cot, a mountain of blankets smothering you. You kicked them off of your sweating body and leaned up so you were sitting on the cot.

“How do you feel, mesh’la?” asked a voice beside you, startling you.

You turned to find the man that rescued you sitting beside you. Although he had taken his chest plate and shirt off, you could tell it was him from the dull blue helmet that rested on his knee. Looking at him more closely, everything about him made you flush with something you couldn’t describe. Your eyes first went to the mess of dark curly hair framing his face, then traced down his strong jawline to the beads that rested along his collarbones. You had never really had the chance to inspect a shirtless man before, and your eyes quickly glanced over the toned, and rather large, muscles of his chest and stomach. You felt your face flush with heat and you looked up to stare at his face. If he noticed your flushed face, he didn’t mention it, opting to give you a concerned look.

“I feel—I feel fine,” you stuttered out, looking down to smooth out your worn dress. You looked back up and examined your surroundings beyond the man sitting in front of you. “Where…where am I?”

You quickly learned the man’s name was Paz Vizla and he was the leader of the clan whose medical building you were currently sitting in. They called themselves Mandalorians. He had already guessed you were from the city and guessing from the slight sneer that curled his lips up ever so slightly, you guessed he had met your masters at some point. It would probably take you a week to recover from your escape, but you were safe here and could stay as long as you liked.

Your stay turned from a week to a month, and then one month turned into two, and then those months quickly turned into a year. After your week of recovery, you moved in with a woman Mandalorian named Rale Jarrde and her young son, Sesro. You had come to appreciate, and even love, the people who took you in, these Mandalorians, and you quickly realized the stories you were told as a girl by your masters were not true. Sure, they did the odd bounty-hunting job, but they would do anything for people in need, like you.

Paz had also taken a liking to you. He visited you every day while you were in the medical building, but less when you moved out, despite how ecstatic Sesro was whenever he visited. He, along with Rale, began teaching you about his clan, and you were an eager student. You learned why he dressed the way he did, some of their customs, and slowly learned their language, Mando’a. It was only when he’d used that unfamiliar word—mesh’la—with you again that you started to question your relationship with him.

He had come back from meeting with other clan alore and you had stopped to wave at him as you were taking a basket of woolen clothes you had fixed for the armorer of the clan. He waved back, removing his helmet so you could see the wide smile that broke across his face.

“I missed you, mesh’la,” Paz had said.

You smiled at his words, but tilted your head in curiosity. “Mesh’la,” you tested against your learning tongue. “What does that mean?”

Paz chuckled and lifted a gloved hand to your chin, lifting it so you looked him in his eyes. His thumb grazed your bottom lip slightly. You felt your face flush red again like that first time you saw him in that med bay many months ago.

“It means beautiful,” he had said. He chucked you under the chin once more then turned around to leave for his dwelling, leaving you flustered and wondering in the middle of the compound.

After that, you had no trouble defining the relationship, especially since Paz seemed very eager to deepen it. When he wasn’t away or busy with alor business, he was with you, watching you sew clothes, helping you cook, and playing with Sesro and the other two foundlings the clan had taken in since you had arrived. His second-in-commands knew you by name and began to tell you where he was whenever you came looking for him. Rale would give you amused looks if you returned late from his dwelling, but instead of being embarrassed, you would laugh breathlessly and tell her the newest developments of your relationship.

One evening after dinner, you and Paz sneaked out of the compound to his favorite spot in the little oasis of the desert where the clan lived. It was a hidden spring, and you sat down on one of the smooth rocks that lined the pool the spring fed into, lifting the hem of your dress so you didn’t get it wet. You took off your shoes and dipped you toes in the cool water, leaning back and smiling at Paz, who had sat down beside you, tugging off his boots and setting them beside his helmet in the wet sand beside him. He set his feet in the water and positioned his arm behind you.

You sighed and leaned against his arm, settling your head into the crook of his shoulder. The warmth from the naked skin of his arms and chest contrasted with the cool water of the spring. “It’s very nice here.” It was quiet, but you could still hear the faint buzz of conversation and laughter from the compound.

Paz hummed. His arm that you were resting on wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so your thighs touched his and so his hand could draw lazy patterns on your thigh. You felt your face flush, this time not with embarrassment, but with the sweet warmth that burst in your chest every time you were with Paz.

“Why did you bring me here?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence between the both of you.

Paz clasped your hand in his larger one, his thumb pressing gently into your palm. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You looked up at him, full of curiosity. “What is it?”

Paz avoided your gaze, instead watching his thumb caress your palm. He let out a breathy chuckle. “You know, I’ve faced almost a thousand warriors in battle, but I feel most nervous when I'm with you.” He finally looked you in your eyes and gave you a wry smile. “I'm not the best at this.”

You smiled back at him. “I don’t mind,” you said, reaching your free hand up to touch his cheek. “Ask away, I don’t bite.”

“Do you know what a riduurok is?” he asked.

You nodded slightly, tilting your head. You remember Rale mentioning something about it, hers with her husband a long time ago. Your felt your face flush at the implication. “Why?”

“I want to do that with you,” he said. Your mouth fell open but he continued on before you could say anything. “I—I can't stop thinking about you. I feel like I think about you all the time. I can't help thinking about how when you smile I can see it in your eyes and how beautiful that makes you. And I can't stop thinking of how I want to see you smile always. And then there’s this tight feeling in my chest and I can't make it go away, and—.”

“Paz!” you exclaimed, laughing and pressing a finger to his lips. You cradled his face in both of your hands and you looked into his eyes, full of worry and pleading. “It’s alright. I feel the same way.”

You had to bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing at the way his eyes lit up with happiness. “Really?” His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “I was so nervous that you didn’t.”

“Of course I do,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “I knew from the moment you found me out in the desert.”

Paz breathed a sigh of relief, letting out all of the tension in his body. He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath fanning across your face. “I love you, ner mesh’la.” He pulled you in closer and pressed his lips to yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. You smiled against his lips as his words rang through your head.

I love you, ner mesh’la.

---

Now you found yourself laying in bed with him, sunlight slowly filtering through the window. You giggled as Paz wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his nose in your neck. You giggled again and carefully twisted around so you were facing him.

You smiled and kissed his nose as his eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, my leader.”

Paz smiled back at you, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Good morning, ner mesh’la.” His voice was more husky than usual, filled with early morning sleepiness. He pressed his face into your chest, stifling a yawn. “Why are you up so early? Go back to sleep.”

You laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t go back to sleep. I need to tell you something.”

He groaned, but lifted himself from your chest and leaned against one arm, his other pulling you closer and drawing circles along your lower back. He smiled at you with sleepy eyes. “What is it, ner mesh’la?”

You had been so excited to tell him, but now that he was looking at you, you felt nervous. You placed a hand over your stomach. “Promise me you won’t freak out?”

Paz huffed and rolled his eyes. “Mesh’la, after what happened yesterday, nothing could faze me.”

You smiled and reached up to place a kiss to his nose. He had all but fallen into your arms the moment he got back from negotiations last night, exhausted.

“Okay, okay,” you giggled as he leaned down to nuzzle against your cheek. You took a deep breath and let it out slowly, caressing the hair at the nape of his neck in a poor effort to rid yourself of your nervousness. “I…I'm pregnant.”

His brow furrowed against your cheek and he stayed like that for a moment before lifting up to rest his head against one hand. His eyes were full of bewilderment. “What?”

You bit your lip and nodded. “I'm only a couple of months along I think. I wasn’t sure when to tell you, but I wanted to tell you earlier, but you were gone, and—.”

Paz interrupted your nervous chatter by sealing his lips on yours. You closed your eyes and pressed your hands to his chest, leaning into him. It was only until he began to press you down into the bed, still keeping his lips on yours, that you tried to pull away.

“Mmff—Paz!” you said, giggling and pulling away from him. He captured your face in his hands and continued to kiss your cheeks and eyelids.

“I'm sorry, mesh’la, I just….” He paused to place a quick kiss on the tip of your nose, then leaned back to look in your eyes. “Are you sure?”

You placed a hand on his cheek and smiled up at him. “Of course, ner riduur.”

You watched his eyes soften and he placed another lasting kiss on your lips before tucking you against him.

“I don’t know what I would do without you, ner mesh’la,” he murmured, placing his large hand against your stomach. “You complete me in every way.”

You smiled against his shoulder, snuggling deeper into his embrace. You placed a hand over his resting against your stomach. You were happy here, resting in Paz’s arms. And you were happy knowing that your child would be raised like this. Safe, secure, and warm.

#paz vizla x reader #cl!paz vizla #cl!au #the mandalorian fanfiction #paz vizla #the mandalorian #my writing

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o-wise-corvid · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3, incoming. Okay I promised y’all action and here it is. Hope y’all enjoy. Cody’s Kids are about to test their mettle and see if they’re ready for active duty. We shall see. 🤔

Warnings: violence/ broken bones/some blood/nothing fatal/ almost though

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

Chapter 3: Combatant Eliminated

“Don’t try to win this by yourself. We’re strongest together. Remember.” Gaia smoothed Shriek’s hair back and helped him pull on his headgear. It wasn’t like wearing a full helmet like Papa’s, but it protected the forehead and back of the skull, cheek guards offering cushions to the face in case of a fall.

“Rend is top heavy,” Rex offered, cracking his neck to the side. “His balance is bad.” He shared a grin with Gaia. They had trained with Rend back during the short time that it had just been the three of them and the memories of the young man’s brutality were hard to forget.

“Wear him out. Make him work for his air.” Soren accepted a hearty backslap from Rex, and the boys laughed.

Rend had broken one of Rex’s ribs on his first day in the training yard and hit Gaia so hard across the face that she’d nearly lost consciousness. It had been Soren who had gotten in behind the muscle wall, looped his lanky arms around Rend’s neck and choked him to his knees. Even Soren had walked away with a bruised spine, a fractured shoulder and a bleeding due to being repeatedly slammed against the wall.

“We can’t use the Force, right?”

Shriek was the reliant on the Force of them all and his strength was unparalleled. He could lift all the others, and Cody, without having to gesture so much as a finger.

“No, we can’t. But we-“ Gaia said confidently as she walked around to each black suit of armor and stamped a bright yellow Imperial Seal on the chest plate- “are Sunshine Squad.”

“Sunshine? That sounds...” Kali made a face that indicated primness.” The others snorted and giggled, eyeing the bright symbol that was so stark against the black.

“Yellow is Cody’s color.”

Everyone fell silent. They each turned to Gaia with shameful expressions, Soren and Rex pressing a hand to their chests. “We should wear it with honor. Don’t you think?”

“Yes sir.”

Gaia blushed fiercely and the seriousness of the moment dissipated in a flash. Rex grabbed her shoulder, pressing his forehead to hers in a gesture Cody often used as one of affection and encouragement.

“You got this, vod.”

Gaia gripped him behind his neck, pressing her forehead harder against his. “We’ve got this.”

“Together.”

They walked out of the prep room together, Rex’s twin shock batons swinging on his hips and Gaia’s stun pike slung easily over her shoulder. Shriek carried one baton and Kali carried two short ones. Soren carried the most unique version of the weapon; he’d grafted retractable batons onto his gauntlets.

Rend and his squad, named after himself, were waiting at the other end of a mock canyon. The expanse of space that spanned the arena was rocky and full of cavernous rock formations. This was widely considered the most difficult setting in the arena and only the most skilled combatants were even allowed access to it. Rend Squad trained on it every week.

“Uneven terrain,” Shriek muttered, checking the grips of his gauntlets one last time. “Easy to lose footing.”

“Rend likes to use power moves, devastating blows with that mallet of his. Be a shame if somebody led him to some loose gravel and he couldn’t get the traction for something like that.” Kali ground her teeth together the further into the statement she went. “No one makes one of us bleed without paying the price,” she finished darkly.

“No heroics on our account,” Soren soothed, touching the Twi’Lek’s shoulder. “Using the Force will disqualify you, vod’ika... we need you out there.”

Kali sighed but nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. She showed her lack of rest, but Gaia knew how even a tired Kali could be lethal. Anger seemed to energize the girl, which Cody tried to frequently discourage, but Kali didn’t always listen.

A harsh bark of laughter echoed across the field. “Look at them! They even named themselves Sunshine Squad! How precious.”

Gaia tightened her grip on the staff, feeling the cold thump of anger in her stomach. She immediately pushed it away. She couldn’t afford to have emotions out on the field right now. She needed a cool head, not just for herself. Four others depended on her to be the logical one. The one who could make a split second decision that could decide the sway of a fight.

“Oh, so stoic! The captain’s got you all whipped. Cant even unleash your tongues else he might not feed you.”

Rex snorted. “The galaxy’s finest actors. Shame we’re waisted on the Empire,” he muttered. The others made soft, amused noises, refusing to raise noise that Rend might be able to perceive.

“When you’re sufficiently able,” a voice chimed from everywhere, Cody’s signature snarl that he used when in mixed company, “begin.”

Rend surged into motion like he’d been stung. The teenager pounded his way through the valley that ate up most of the arena’s center. His team followed, a knot of black against the leeched grayish brown of the sandy soil.

A hum filled the air as the five powered up their stun batons. They sank into crouched, legs braced, weapons brandished. Gaia side-checked Soren and Rex. They would move together, just like they’d rehearsed. “The joints,” she reminded. She heard Soren growl a little under his breath, saw the shine of sweat on his cheek. On the other side, Rex’s gloved squeaked as he adjusted his grip.

And then Rend was upon them.

Gaia took two quick steps forward and swung her staff. Rend blocked it easily, but then went down as Rex and Soren darted by, each scoring a hit to the unprotected backs of his knees. Kali and Shriek followed them, Kali’s hand darting under Rend’s arm to deliver a shock right to his armpit. Shriek kneed him in the face, the sound of breaking cartilage swallowed by Rend’s enraged yell.

Gaia side-stepped a half-blind, flailing swipe from Rend’s mallet, wound up and let fly a swing that caught Rend directly on the jaw. She groaned when he fell forward, unconscious but still gripping his mallet in his hand. “Players” weren’t considered out of the game until they either dropped their weapon or were disarmed. Disarming an unconscious opponent wasn’t allowed.

She turned, thrumming her legs into a churning sprint. The others had reached the rest of Rend’s team and the fight was on. Rend was the muscle of the team but being assaulted by so many combatants proved far too much for his weight-bound fighting style. Alone, he might’ve taken Gaia, but she wasn’t alone.

Soren danced in and out of the reach of a tall, slender human, who looked to be creating her fifteenth year. She twirled and flicked a baton that was almost as long as Gaia’s entire staff, the incredible reach of the thing keeping Soren from getting close enough to stun her. Her control of the thing was remarkable and she wore a fierce, almost animalistic grin.

Gaia stepped into a spin, circled her staff around and brought the stunning “blade” down hard on the woman’s elongated, but thin baton. There was a crackling snap and the low hum that had followed the baton’s motions died.

“Combatant eliminated.”

The voice was artificial, leaning itself to a feminine quality. Sterility aside, Gaia couldn’t contain a low, triumphant laugh. “Bit off a little much there, didn’t you, Kreia?”

“Karking nerf herders,” she snapped back bitterly, arms falling to her sides as Soren and Gaia hurried to help the others.

“I got Shriek,” Soren said, veering away to where the smaller boy was dueling his opponent like a mad man, his baton a purplish blue blur as he blocked, parried and struck.

Gaia glanced at Kali, who slid under the arm of a huge boy easily thrice her size. She drove her knee up into his elbow, breaking the arm, and causing the boy to release his baton.

“Combatant eliminated.”

Gaia heard her give a shout of joy.

Rex was directly ahead of her, scrambling over a small rock outcropping, using the terrain to keep the remaining member of Rend. Gai recognized the youngest member of the squad, Coris, by his double batons and by the constant twirling madness that he he created with them. Rex was easily his match, but one of his arms was slower, possibly he’d been shocked on that side. His good arm was working in a frenzy to block Coris’ blows and Gaia could see the sweat fly off the Zabrak’s face as he tried to trip up his opponent.

She put on speed, building up for a downward power strike that would send Coris to his knees. He turned at exactly the wrong moment. One arm arced backward in a stab, keeping Rex at bay, while the other swept outward, catching Gaia in the shoulder. The blow knocked her sideways, the bone jittering shock of the baton causing her muscles to seize up and clench violently.

Gaia slammed hard into a rocky formation, the air leaving her lungs. She was a powerful warrior, capable of taking down opponents twice her size, but she was still only eleven. She coughed, tasting copper on her tongue where she’d bit her own lip. The weight of her staff in her hand reminded her that she was still in the game and her head snapped up just as Coris bore down on her.

Her arm jerked around, sweeping at his knees, but Coris was not Rend. He jumped the strike and laughed. “Stupid little kid.”

“I know you are,” someone that Gaia couldn’t see all but bellowed, “but what am I?”

Coris’ face twisted into annoyance but then froze in a grimace as a baton-wielding arm looped around his shoulders and touched the tip of the weapon to the underside of Coris’ jaw. The young man’s lithe frame went rigid for a moment, then the arm retracted. Coris swayed, his batons slipped from his fingers and he fell flat on his face.

Rex stood panting, looking as if he might collapse, one arm bent protectively around to cradle the other. His batons hung on his belt. “You okay?”

Gaia nodded, using her staff to help her stand. “You?”

“Might be broken. I dunno.”

Shriek and Soren stood a hundred or so yards away, Kali near them. They were all looking back in the direction they’d come from. Gaia and Rex followed their gaze. Rend was stirring, pulling himself up to his knees.

“We gave him everything we had and he still didn’t go down,” Rex said softly so only Gaia would hear. “What’s the plan?”

Gaia tested her shoulder, rolling the arm. She’d have a bruise but she could still move it. “Get him in the caves. We can’t handle another all out attack like that, you especially. Confuse him. If we can hit him with a bunch of sneak attacks, just beat him down one by one, we can end this. See if we can really mess that nose of his up.”

Rex nodded once and the two set off. The others fell in around them, Soren touching his brother’s good arm worriedly. Kali glanced anxiously at the blood drying on Gaia’s chin, but didn’t say anything. Her anger coiled in the Force, begging to be set free.

“I’m okay,” Gaia assured her almost sternly. “Focus.”

Kali huffed, frowning darkly. “I know,” she snapped but then added more gently, “...I know.”

Rend lurched to his feet and whirled, eyes wild amongst a blood splattered face. He took in the unconscious forms of his teammates with an annoyed snort. Gaia wasn’t sure but she thought she heard him mutter, “Useless.”

“You’ve already lost,” she called to him. “Lay down your hammer and call it a day, Rend. You’ve already made squad. Nothing for you to prove. Gaining another qualified strike team for the Empire helps us all.”

Rend sneered at them. “You don’t make squad until until every one of my team isn’t holding a weapon.”

Soren and Rex sighed together.

“Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way after all.” Shriek cracked his knuckles.

The inhuman noise of rage that ripped out of Rend’s mouth was nothing short of deafening. A wave of energy rolled with the scream, slamming into the five children without warning. Gaia was sent flying, her staff ripped from her fingers. She heard a blaring klaxon sound in the area followed by four overlapping “Combatant eliminated” alerts.

She flipped head over heels and landed on her belly, losing her wind for the second time in five minutes. Someone clipped by her and there was a pained yell as they landed. It sounded like Shriek. Through blurry eyes, Gaia spotted Rend stomping his way toward her, his mallet held firmly in both hands.

He’s going to kill me, whispered in her mind, a tendril of panic curling cold and hard into her gut. She tried to push herself up, but pain, sharp and hot sang through her body; something was broken even behind all that armor.

Rend stopped in front of her, hooked a toe under Gaia’s shoulder and flipped her over. “No kid takes my field,” he said, blood and spit flying from his mouth.

“Drop it Rend.”

Cody’s voice ushered a wave of relief over Gaia that was so strong that she nearly lost consciousness right then. She tilted her head back a little and saw him, all glossy black and yellow, a blaster rifle aimed threateningly at Rend. “You disqualified yourself by using the Force. You lost your own field and handed the children the win.”

Rend turned toward Cody, fist balling up as he moved. Many things happened at once in that moment. Cody suddenly staggered, his armor buckling and contorting as Rend began to slowly squeeze his fist shut. His rifle fired and missed. Kali and Shriek screamed together.

Time seemed to freeze as Gaia’s injured body hurled itself into action, her legs and arms clawing at the ground. She tackled Rend’s middle from behind, feeling Soren and Rex collide one after the other, Soren above and Rex below. Another blaster bolt screamed through the arena and then another. Rend jerked as one made contact, a strangled cry leaving him.

Gaia felt the bigger boy land on top of her, felt Soren and Rex immediately yank him off as the crackling pain in her chest exploded like a silent bomb. She groaned, an arm flying over her chest protectively. Rex was on his knees beside her, a hand covering her forehead, keeping her on her back.

“B-Captain. She’s got a broken rib, maybe a punctured lung.”

Other hands touched her, one on her ankle, another on her shoulder. The pain ebbed and dulled. Cody’s face bobbed into vision over her, well, his helmeted face. It was good he didn’t take it off now she thought in a quick burst of clarity; he might not be able to hide his feelings after all that had just happened.

“We’ve got to get her to Medbay.” Kali squeezed Gaia’s hand.

“I’m going to sedate you, Cadet. Just hold still.” Cody’s fingers trembled a little as he turned her head to the side and injected the sedative, the soft hiss of the depressor promising relief with a gentle whisper.

She felt the prick of the needle in her neck and the pain disappeared. Gaia’s entire body seemed to unwind, growing warm and heavy. It felt good, to just lie there and not have a care in the world. Everyone she loved was there... This was nice. In fact, Gaia felt so good that she thought she just might sleep. Yes. Sleep would be... be nice...

#sunshine squad #star wars #commander cody #my oc’s #star wars fanfiction

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frostsinth · 4 years

Text

Li’un Ma Shkio - Pt. 6

Part One, Two, Three, Four, & Five

Unvar and Karianna awaken in each others arms. Have things changed between them? Or is Karianna still fighting the strange bond she feels?

Bit of a slower scene. Next part gets better. Going to start wrapping up the story soon(ish), so stay tuned! Likes and comments to let me know you still want updates.

....

I wasn’t sure how long I slept, but when next I woke, I could hear the camp bustling around me just beyond the tent walls. Still, it was muffled, and only began to filter into my ears as I started to wake. It was easy to tune out.

My eyes blinked lazily, and I yawned wide, feeling a little hazy. That sort of stupor when you first wake up, when you are simultaneously in all the places you’ve ever woken up in your life before your brain catches up your memory retrieval. For a second, I thought I was back home, in my own bed. There was a little confusion as I tried to sort out where my window had gone, and why I felt like my head was at the foot of the bed instead of on my pillows.

But then suddenly it all came flooding back to me. I started slightly, my eyes going wide. I jerked and twisted, sitting bolt upright. My elbow hit something solid and warm beside me as I sprung up.

There was a loud grunt next to me, and I spun, giving a confused squeak when I looked down.

Unvar’s yawn was so wide I thought I might be able to fit my head inside his mouth. Slowly, he rolled onto his back and stretched his arms up over his head, the muscles rippling as he flexed them. Blinking dully, he looked up at me with bleary eyes, tucking his hands behind his skull.

“Yukna vat,” he greeted me in a deep grumble still laden with sleep.

I stared at him stupidly. “What?”

“Eh, good morning, you say.” He untucked one hand and rubbed his meaty fist against the corner of his mouth.

The Tlaloc resumed his stretching with his massive legs, grunting softly. The muscles in his abdomen flexed and I quickly tried to find somewhere else to look. Shyly, I pulled a blanket up over my shoulders and wrapped myself in it, suddenly very aware of the thin slip that barely covered my breasts and stomach, let alone my thighs.

Unvar grunted again, and swung his legs out of the bed. Sitting up, his broad shoulders rippled as he stretched them back and forth too.

“After midday,” He grumbled softly, shaking his head and running one hand over the top, “Not morning.”

Unsure what to do, I looked around the tent and listened to the muffled sounds from the other side. I rubbed at my injured shoulder, which was tender and sore this morning. But the skin was cool to the touch, so I figured I had managed to stave off infection so far at least. Unvar gave one last huge yawn, then stood.

I gave a soft “eep!” and quickly spun as his tight ass suddenly filled my view. I covered my eyes with one hand, staring down at my own lap instead as my cheeks flushed red.

The Tlaloc gave a snort. “Shikoba have strange-ness about body naked-ness,” He observed, and I felt the bed shift as he stood, “Is just skin. But Shikoba shamed by seeing it.”

I didn’t feel like arguing the point of it. Instead I listened quietly as he shuffled about. Eventually, I dared a peek through my fingers, and saw that he was just pulling up his armor over his stomach. He fussed with the ties while I slowly dropped my hand again.

“You have hunger?” He asked me, then turned without waiting for an answer and disappeared out the tent flap.

There were loud shouts in his guttural language, though I supposed the tone sounded mostly cheery. I couldn’t make out any of the words, and decided I only knew all of three words anyways. Considering they mostly had to do with kissing, they wouldn’t likely be very helpful to figure out what was going on. My lips tingled at the thought, and I felt my ears growing hot again. I scooched to the edge of the bed and draped my legs over.

Unvar reappeared, smacking the tent flap back, with a plate full of meats, bread, and cheeses. I jumped at his entrance, but managed to quickly relax when I realized it was just him. He lifted the plate a little, almost triumphantly, then plunked down onto his stump, grabbing up a fistful of food as he did.

Quietly, I slid off the bed, my bare feet wiggling as they touched the cool floor. But it was much warmer than the night before, so I shuffled over with the blanket still wrapped around me to take my seat across from him.

He had already gobbled up a large portion of the meat by the time I got there and held out the plate to me, so I took up a large leg of what looked like it might be pheasant for myself. I grabbed a warm bread roll and a large wedge of cheese as well, finding myself surprisingly hungry.

Unvar leaned back and grabbed a jug from nearby, dragging it over. He uncorked it, then drained half the liquid with thirsty gulps. Some dribbled down his chin as he drank, and I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him as I watched. He gave a satisfied “ahhh!” as he dropped the jug down, and wiped at his wet mouth with the back of his hand.

I had stopped chewing, with the meat halfway to my mouth, staring at him. He seemed to notice, cocking his head to one side curiously. He held the jug out to me, shaking it slightly in invitation. I showed him my full hands helplessly, and he nodded, placing it within easy reach instead.

He leaned back slightly, the plate he had brought in almost entirely bare, and made some happy sounds I couldn’t quite describe. All while patting his stomach. He reached up and dug one fingernail between his tusks, stretching his jaw about as he did. It looks almost comical, and I wrinkled my nose to suppress a laugh. Instead, I focused on my own food, finishing it (though not nearly as quickly) then dragging the jug over to take a much more delicate few sips. Whatever the liquid, it was cool and refreshing, though tasted a little like barley or perhaps wheat. I licked my lips and sipped a little more.

Unvar meanwhile stood, collecting his boots and ax from where he had tossed them the night before. He also grabbed his broadsword, but didn’t strap it to his back just yet. Instead, he dragged it over to the fire.

“What are you doing today?” I asked him curiously, picking up another roll from the plate now on the ground. I used it to fish up the few scraps of meat left on the plate and spoon them up to my mouth.

He grunted. “Many things. Chief things. Hard to explain.”

Then he turned and considered me, appraising me from head to toe. I swallowed my mouthful under his scrutiny and shuffled nervously. He shook his head.

“Cannot wear blanket all day.” He told me, his tone almost scolding.

I glanced over at my clothes in a pile on the ground. “But, my clothes are filthy, and-”

I jumped as the Tlaloc Chief shouted something out the flap of the tent.There was a resounding roar in reply that had my eyes shooting wide.

Another Tlaloc entered the tent at his summons, ducking her head to avoid knocking it into the post over the doorway. She was huge! Taller than Unvar, and though not as wide, her muscles still seemed larger than my head in most places. She was covered with equally sparse furs and leather, and one of her long tusks was capped in silver. Garnished in simply a strange leather breast piece and a small fur skirt that reached halfway down her thighs, her chiseled abs and stoney shoulders were bare. Her hair was in wild dreads, falling about her shoulders like a black mane, and she crossed her meaty arms over a full bosom, raising one bushy eyebrow at Unvar.

For his part, Unvar simply looked up at her and exchanged some words with her in their tongue. She grunted, then turned her eyes on me. Her hawk-like gaze made me feel like shrinking into some dark corner somewhere and never coming out again. She looked me up and down from head to toe as Unvar had, then turned back to him, speaking loudly. I didn’t have to know the words to tell she was complaining. Unvar growled back at her, and she seemed to bristle a little at his words. But then she nodded, and ducked back out of the tent.

“Ta’nik will bring you clothes.” Unvar told me, nodding approvingly.

“But-”

The Tlaloc in question reappeared, bundles of furs in her arms and a small basket under one elbow. Though perhaps it just appeared small since her elbow was the size of my thigh. She seemed to dip her head to Unvar, somewhat politely, then began speaking again in their deep, throaty language. Unvar argued back with her, and their volume slowly began to increase.

Ta’nik, as I supposed her name was, dropped her things next to the fire and spun on Unvar, her hands on her hips. Her voice was getting even louder, and I flinched nervously. Unvar raised his voice to match hers, and even raised one finger at her. But Ta’nik shoved him, gesturing to the door, then shoved him again. I was absolutely shocked, especially when Unvar grunted, seeming to relinquish whatever argument he had just lost.

Looking over at me sheepishly, he shrugged, scooping up his broadsword. “I wait outside.”

Before I could beg him to not, he slipped out the tent flap, leaving me alone with the female Tlaloc.

She spun on me, and I jumped as she stomped over and reached out. Her huge hand grabbed my good arm, and yanked me up to stand before her. My forehead barely came to the bottom of her ribs, and I had to crane my neck back to look up at her. Still, she glared down at me with her hawk eyes, then they narrowed. I wracked my brain, trying to remember the words Unvar had said to me just a few minutes ago.

“Umm…. Yukna… vak?” I tried, even attempting a feeble little smile.

Her scowl deepened. “‘Yukna vak?’ Tasht vil ik non, valmul shik’na.” Her tone was scolding, and I shrunk into the blanket.

Shaking her head, she grabbed the fur and yanked it off me. I yelped, but she simply tossed it to the bed, then grabbed one of my shoulders. She turned me a little, then back the other way.

“Ick’thin dul!” She exclaimed, smacking my good shoulder with the back of her hand and placing the other on her hip. Even that light touch had me staggering back a step to keep my balance.

She plucked at the thin slip I wore, then poked one finger at my bandages. Shaking her head and grumbling some other words I didn’t catch, she turned to what she had brought with her. She held up one fur, then dropped it and held another.

“Bah!” She growled, tossing it to the side.

Ta’nik scowled at my slip again, lifting the hem between two fingers and thumbing it. Her hawk eyes seemed to consider the bloodstain almost thoughtfully, then she poked at my bandage again. I resisted the urge to make a sound, but rubbed the spot after she had dropped her hand. Tsking, she reached down into her boot and pulled a dagger from within.

I started to back away, but she simply grabbed my shoulder and with a quick swipe, sliced the slip from my shoulder to waist. I grabbed at it with my arms as it started to fall away, but she tucked the knife back into her boot and pushed my hands aside back. The last remnants of my garment crumpled at my feet, she took stock of me again. My cheeks had grown red hot, and I crossed my arms over myself and tucked my knees together. Ta’nik let out something which I thought might be a hearty laugh, but the sound just had my ears boiling too.

Dropping to one knee in front of me, she picked up one of the leathers from her pile, swatting my arms aside and holding it up to my torso. Her head tilted slightly, then she tossed it aside in favor of another fur, this one a soft tan. It was a long strip that seemed to be fastened together at the ends to make a large circle. She draped it over my shoulders, and it looped lazily down my front, hooked around the back of my neck. She studied it for a moment, pulling it to more fully cover my breasts, then nodded approvingly. I prayed to whatever god was listening that this wasn’t the only thing I was expected to wear. My ass and legs were still completely bare, and the fur stopped just above my navel.

Thankfully, she picked up another light colored leather and fur stitched piece and wrapped it twice about my waist. It fell generously to my knees in front and back, though it rode a little higher on the sides where the layers broke and overlapped. She tugged my elbow, pointing and drawing my attention to the strings at my hip. She pulled them, and I felt the fabric tighten against my skin. Then she deftly tied a knot, and leaned back again to look me over.

She was talking to me now, as she reached back into her pile. She pulled out some leather straps and showed them to me. I supposed she was probably explaining something to me, based upon her tone and gestures. But I wasn’t sure what she meant. She gestured to her own ample breasts, then traced a line with the straps just underneath. She jerked up and down, obviously to illustrate some point. Then she reached out, smacking my elbows until I lifted them up, and wound the straps about my torso. One she placed in the spot she had shown me on her own body, the other she placed just under my armpits, then crossed it down to my waist and wrapped it around my body again. She pointed to the buckles, and showed me how to fasten them.

Ta’nik sat back on her heels, looking pleased with herself. She studied me, turning me this way and that, then nodded. But as her eyes skimmed up to my face, she frowned, then clucked her tongue. Meaty fingers reached out and tugged at my hair.

“Ow!” I exclaimed, pushing her hand away boldly.

She laughed, and I felt more inclined to smile back at whatever humor had tickled her now. With a gentle shove, she sat me down on the ground before her, then leaned over me. Her fingers wove through my hair, firmly, but not painfully. Plaiting the hair on one side of my head. She finished it with a bone pin, then tugged on it again with a smirk.

I smiled back at her. “Thank you,” I said, and genuinely meant it.

She probably didn’t understand me, but nodded approvingly, so I hope she understood at least what I was trying to convey.

I nearly fell onto my back as she yanked my foot out from underneath me and held it up. I scrambled, trying to pull it back, but she exerted no effort in keeping it under her control. She frowned, poking at my toes. I almost couldn’t suppress the giggle at her touch, and wiggled my toes at her. She smirked, then dropped my foot, gesturing over my shoulder and saying something in her own tongue. Glancing back, I saw my own boots there and gathered her meaning. No new shoes for me.

She gathered up the remainder of her things as I stood and slipped on the boots. I suddenly realized that they were indeed my own boots, and wondered exactly how they had ended up back at the tent.

Ta’nik shouted something out the door, then dropped the flap and came over to me again, tucking her things all under one arm. She smiled down at me and plopped her giant hand on my head.

“L’ma shikoba, dol un’nik guut dai.” She told me, then pinched one of my nipples through the fur. “Ol’n mi’hik Unvar dil’nuer pusht tlaloc’kin.”

She laughed at my yelp, and squished one of her own breasts through her clothes, nodding. She poked at mine, then back at hers, grinning widely.

“Yeah yeah, I get it-” I told her, pushing away her fingers and growing pink- “You’ve got bigger breasts.”

She laughed again, then turned at the sound of the tent flap opening. Ta’nik nodded, looking proud, and bustled off, pushing aside Unvar to leave.

He smirked, his eyes following her as she exited, then looked back at me. He froze suddenly, and I thought his eyes widened a little. I shuffled my feet nervously, tucking one loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“... Do I look ok?” I asked, suddenly worried.

I tried to look down at myself. All the important bits seemed to be covered, though you could see a hint of the shape of my breasts around the edges of the fur both at my front and sides. It also seemed a little bold to have my skin showing from the nape of my neck to the bottom of my sternum, but the straps seemed firm enough to keep my breasts from popping out unexpectedly. My shoulders were bare, as was most of my back, but I felt the covering was not horribly indecent.

Still his reaction gave me pause, and I smoothed my hands over the furs on my stomach. He seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in, and shook his head.

“No… I mean-” He shook his head again- “-Yes, you look good. Look like Tlaloc!” Then he grinned, “Small, white Tlaloc. Missing teeth.” He tapped his own tusk to illustrate the point.

I laughed a little at that, not sure if the second part was very good. But I was sure he meant the first part as a compliment. I fiddled with the edge of the fur at my waist, twirling a loose piece between my thumbs.

“So now what?”

“Now we go.” He nodded, “Busy day. Much work.”

He grabbed his blood stained cloak from its hook, then pulled a smaller grey speckled fur from the pile. It had a small strap at the top, and he tossed it to me. The fur fit perfectly around my shoulders and upper back.

“Is cold,” He told me, “Come.”

I had to practically run across the tent not to lose him as he ducked out the door. The sunlight beyond blinded me briefly, and I blinked a few times. Unvar was already striding away, and I skipped to catch up to him. A few curious looks were shot my way, but for the most part the Tlaloc seemed unsurprised to have a human in their midst. Even one following around their chief, whom they each greeted respectfully.

“...Are there other humans here?” I asked as I considered the myriad of colors and shapes around me.

“Hmm?” He grunted, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Ah, Shikoba. Other Shikoba, like me.”

He snorted, raising one hand in salute to a passing man. “Not like you. None like you.” Then he nodded. “But yes. Few. Servants, and a workman. Maltoc keeps one.”

“Maltoc?” I echoed, and there was a tingle down my spine at his choice of words describing my fellow humans.

Unvar didn’t seem to notice my discomfort. He nodded in response, steering us around a rowdy crowd gathered about what appeared to be a blacksmith stall.

“Maltoc. He… what is word-” He grumbled, scratching his chin, “ah… Shaz’gul … he keeps sick. Helps hurts.”

“A healer?” I offered, skipping a few more steps to keep pace with him.

Unvar shrugged. “Shaz’gul, ta tlaloc.” He replied simply. “Shikoba helps Maltoc, and Maltoc keeps shikoba.”

I fell silent, chewing that over thoughtfully as we rounded a few more tents. Finally we came to a halt, and a loud greeting was offered to Unvar as he approached a small group of Tlaloc men. They saluted him with their chest beating greeting and hunched their heads. Then more than one clasped his shoulder or punched his arm. At first I watched with alarm, but the grins exchanged seemed passive enough. I noticed the other Tlaloc draping their arms around each other or touching various parts of their fellows’ bodies as they spoke. As if conversation required some form of touch at all times.

The words they exchanged were too quick and strange for me to begin to understand, so I waited quietly a few feet away. A few minutes later, he clasped the shoulder of one and gestured for me to follow him again.

We repeated this several times with varying clan members. Sometimes Unvar would be given something, sometimes he would just talk. Sometimes the Tlaloc would fully embrace him in bone shattering hugs, or they would pound a fist into his chest which would incite some shoving before it settled into the usual communication. Once or twice the words seemed to get heated, but it always deescalated with a drink and some arm clasping. At first, I tried to follow the exchanges. Perhaps learn some words or get a sense for what was being said. And I was impressed with the way Unvar changed his mannerisms depending on whom he was talking to. I could tell all the tlaloc we met with seemed to respect him greatly.

But after what felt like hours of following him around with nothing but sideways glances to acknowledge my presence, I was growing bored. The talking was too fast paced for me, and the meetings beyond my scope. ..

....

UPDATE: Part Seven HERE

#orc boyfriend #orcs #orc #monster boyfriend #exophilia #terato #romance #budding romance #slow burn #li'un ma shkio #OC

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years

Text

Join on a grand adventure

Continuation to this (takes place before the last chapter)

Roman let his brother and Virgil into his room, almost vibrating with excitement, but he kept his cool. This might be the last time Virgil agreed to let him pick something out for him, and he was not going to risk him changing his mind now.

“I've been planning this trip for ages! It just never seemed like the right moment and I didn’t want you to think I was asking because I felt I had to… you're going to love it! But first!”

Roman turned to his brother. “What are you going to wear?” he asked gesturing to Remus' appearance.

“What? Not good enough for your royal subjects?” Remus drawled haughtily while striking a dainty pose.

Roman chuckled. “It's fine, for everyday clothes. But this is your big entrance. Don't you want something with a little extra flair?” Roman questioned.

“Well… first impressions are important,” Remus nodded in agreement looking over his usual attire.

The people of the kingdom deserved a little more pazas after his long absence. And Roman basically just gave him his blessing to outshine him today. That would likely never happen again.

So…

Remus snapped his fingers and suddenly Virgil and Roman were met with a…rather dapper ensemble. At first glance at least.

On second inspection what they thought was sequence on his black vest were reptilian scales. The vest itself seemed to be genuine silk. It had leather sequencing on the shoulders, elbows, cuffs and waist. The shoulder patches were lined with soft black feathers.

Black pants disappeared into black dragon leather boots and the fabric of his sash was intertwined with thorny vines.

It looked good honestly. He could’ve done a lot grosser, but he took their plea to behave himself seriously it seemed.

Roman nodded his approval. “Splendid. Although, if I may?” Roman lifted his hand with a questioning look. “You can get rid of it if you don't like it?” he assured him.

“Let me have it Romano.” And with a roll of Roman’s eyes and wave of his hand Remus now wore a green Cape and a fierce emerald embezzled crown.

Remus looked at the result nodding his approval. “I like it.”

“I figured we could match a little,” Roman offered as he waved his hand again and gave himself a red Cape and a crown decorated with rubies. His outfit stayed largely the same, baring the addition of a sheeted broadsword at his hip.

“Similar but different you know?” Remus nodded, happy that his brother was no longer avoiding being associated with him. He missed this stuff.

“Alright you two.” The twins turned to Virgil who'd up until then been observing them quietly while sitting on Roman's vanity.

In the real world, the poor thing wouldn’t have been able to support the weight. But in the mindscape it was fine.

Once he saw he had their attention he jumped off, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Let's get this over with,” he sighed. “What you got for me? I remember I used to wear chainmail and this big cloak?”

Roman chuckled as he remembered that even back then, Virgil had tended to go for oversized clothing.

“Yes…when we were kids,” Roman grinned, receiving a decisive nod from Remus. “Bare minimum effort won't cut it this time Virgie. Not for my big day.”

Virgil groaned. “I’m regretting every decision I’ve made that led me here.”

He took a deep breath and got ready to be…. Ugh, changed. Princey better be having the best day of his life.

And that thought made him relax. He had agreed to this to let Roman have his fun. Today was clearly important to him. And this was as good a way as any to show that between them were somewhat back to how they used to be.

When he opened his eyes he was faced with a full length mirror.

He was wearing some chainmail but it only covered his chest and back. And even that was hidden from view by the royal purple vest with a mix of the twin's coats of arms in his colors over his heart. A black, purple patched, hooded cloak was held in place by a pin bearing his signature storm cloud.

There were steel cuffs around his wrists, decorated with Amethysts.

The same type of stone that graced the hilt of the sword at his hip and the twin daggers he found on his back. And the armored plates with intricate designs, bound around his knees and elbows.

He looked kind of cool honestly. But if he told Princey that he'd never live it down.

“Well it's not as bad as I thought it would be,” Virgil admitted reluctantly causing Roman to squeal in delight.

Remus let out a cackle. Everyone knew that this was Virgil's way of saying he loved it.

“Well! Shall we? A grand adventure awaits!” Roman declared eagerly as soon as he got over his relief at getting Virgil's approval.

His brother and best friend nodded as they all turned towards the big, golden door to the imagination.

“We’ll arrive a bit outside of the kingdom but don't worry, I’ve arranged for transportation,” Roman grinned. The doors opened and door the first time in ages the trio stepped through.

Roman, Remus and Virgil are open for asks.

Tag for this story is: “ask the trouble trio”

Warning you can change the story by asking or not asking certain questions.

I'll start a new tag list for this project. Let me know if you want to be on it.

Next part

Outfits

#ask the trouble trio #sanders sides #ts sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #fic #reader participation #hope this works out

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shinobirain24 · 3 years

Text

Water and Ice- Chapter 12: Klarissa

Cascade woke up on the cool temperature of the sand to stage a rebellion against the Kingdoms of Remnant. The waves are spreading back and fourth like the cycle of tides. The moon is beyond repaired for any reason. Aside from the ocean's waves, he could hear the beautiful humming, the sound of a violin. The area looked calmer, but with the Great War still progressing, it's anything but peaceful. From who he can see from afar is an armored woman with white hair. Eyes that matched the morning sky. Silver armor with shoulder plates each, a white diamond that is the center of the armor chest-plate. Cascade could tell she is a knight, but not like any knight he had seen before. Most of them are male. Cascade has a few scratches from fighting the Grimm in the seas.

It came to the point where Cascade is drawn to her singing. But it came to the point that he never trust outsiders. To her exception, the woman has sing her sorrows of loneliness. Undesirable destinies, fates and unforeseen prophecies. The moon shines in a full light, as if it was responding to her voice. Then he heard her asking herself, or what it seems to be. "Do you wish that there are no such things as war?" She spoke. Cascade isn't sure if he should answer or if she knows that he's standing there. He didn't want to scare her, or to engage in a fight with her. To his shock, she turned and looks at him with a genuine smile. "Well, war is the only thing they know about. What else can they do?" Replied Cascade. She is actually talking to him. "Tell me something. Do you believe in duty and honor, because of lineage?" She asked him with the next question.

"I don't know. All am I doing was fighting for my people. Nothing else. But to me, war is pollution to peace." Replied Cascade again."At least that's one thing we can agree on. How are you feeling?" Asked the woman. It hit him to figure it out that she was the one who tended the wounds. "I saw you drifted from the sea, so I tended your wounds." She explains. Cascade looked down to see himself bandaged from the ribs. "I am, okay. Thank you." He said graciously. "But who are you, why did you help me? You're an outsider." He asked.

"Does it matter? I have a thing for being a medic myself. And...my name...is Avalora." She said staring at him.

Weiss is humming in a bedroom. Where she was locked in, as according to plan for the arranged wedding. Despite not liking to sing, it becomes her passion to keep her hope to escape from the fate that is about to come. Looking from the balcony, where she can see the blue seas. But there are also bodyguards, armed with guns for any intruders trying to break in. Or if Weiss tries to leave. When Neptune promised her to get her out of this miserable scheme at the hands of her own father, and her most hated enemy. She knew there is a risk should anyone be involved. She is a huntress, but there is still the pieces she has to pick up before she is at peace from the past. Her semblance and aura are slowly coming back. But she have to keep it a secret in order for Jacques and Carlos from going any further to secure the perimeters.

So far, the poison is starting to wear off. I'll just need to keep up the act until the ceremony starts. Then Father and Carlos will have the price to paid for. She thought. Winter isn't going to be pleased about this when she finds out. Then a door is knocked, she expected to be either her father, or Carlos about to talk about the wedding. Which she never wants to hear about, reminding her of how her father had bought his way to her mother. "Come in." She sighed. Wanting the conversation to be over. Instead, it was a woman in her late 20s. Wearing a suit and tie. Brown hair and eyes. "Miss Schnee, is everything alright in here? Master Carlos wants me to check up on you." "Yes, thank you." Weiss replies. The woman then looks around the hallway, and it looks like there are cameras attached to the ceilings. Then locks the door and walks over to Weiss. "Is something wrong?" She asked, judging by the suspicious look on her facial expression. "We need to talk. There's something you should know about the Vega family." This is unexpected, a servant of the Vega Household is about to tell her something she didn't know about. Another bombshell secret that could lead to her father's arrest once again. This time, forever. "What is this all about?" "Do you remember my uncle, Klein Sieben?" Weiss went eye-wide, to have remembered her butler and friend. But she didn't know he has any relatives. "Hold on, you're related to him?""My name is Klarissa Sieben. I am a private investigator, working undercover to get the evidence of huntsmen trafficking. Just like The Crown in Vacuo, there was a series of disappearances of huntsmen who're declared dead. But no bodies were found last year. The reasons why any authority figure has shut down the unsolved cases." Klarissa explains. "I was hired as a butler in order to absorb any information about another organization called, the Red Eye. Ever heard of them?" Weiss shook her head in response. "Not that I know of, is this anything new?""Actually, this organization has been running more than your generation have." Klarissa recapped the details she heard. "I was only 10 when I first heard about the group. Since then, I was enrolled to a law school while my uncle was working in your manor at the time. While there, I secretly kept digging into some of the abandoned hideouts, leaving some anonymous tips to any of the police stations. Unfortunately, non of them seemed to get to the bottom of this. What I found out about the organization is that it is a secret society being held by wealthy people, sending any mercenary they can find to hire by kidnapping huntsmen. Also a series of destructions that were claimed to be accidents.""But it wasn't, right?""I don't believe these are accidents. I could tell that some of members left the insignias of the red eye with a black pupil, as a symbol of the organization. Though police disclaims this and declared them as accidents. It all traces back after Uncle Klein was fired from his position when he helped you escaped from the Schnee Manor. Your father was one of the few persons of interests, including Montero Vega. My guess is that my uncle knows something off about him that we did not." Weiss felt bad that Klein had been relieved from his job because he helped her evade her father from locking her in the manor. She still thought it was her fault that this happened."How's your uncle?" She asked. Concerned for how he was doing."He's doing okay. He's living in my home since then."

Klarissa assured her, to Weiss' relief. "I'm sorry that this happened to him. My father is not the kind of person you want to meet." She remarked. Both agreed what kind of a joke Jacques Gele really is. Klarissa then told her side of the story for the reasons for why her uncle was working for the Schnee household in the first place. After her parents died, he took her in to provide her the education she needed for her today's career. And she was thankful for that. There are times Klein have told his niece about Weiss, as thought to be a greedy girl when he has told her another side of her. That's where she learns about getting to know one another before making judgement. After he was fired, Klarissa promised her uncle if she ran into her, she'll give her his regards. "Thank goodness, I just wish I would just said goodbye before he left."

"Don't worry about it. Right now, you need to worry about getting out of this place. But we need to buy ourselves some time before you do. I'll keep searching around this area so that we can put them out for good. The best we can do now is to keep low. Meet me in my dorm tomorrow, and I'll inform you more about the details." Klarissa instructs her. And Weiss agrees. She was glad there was someone inside the Vega Manor to have been on her side. Carlos did not know that one of his employees is an undercover investigator. She then sat on the bed, reopening the letter that Neptune had written to her. She was glad she had already hidden it before her father could take anything else away. It was still the only treasure she will cherish forever.

Neptune is back in Vale rowing in the lifeboat. He was all alone wandering the streets after putting back on the hoodie he left on a hidden spot where no one will find it. It was very dark in Vale City. He was thinking about reporting a kidnapping to the authorities, but if he did. The he'll be caught and nobody will believe him. Cause he's a wanted man. He was a junior detective once, but now those days are over. Then he heard rumors about more kidnappings, it's not just huntsmen that somebody is hunting down. But also those with semblances, whether it was children, teenagers, adults, or elderly. Could any of this connect to his brother? Then loved ones of the abductees said that they tried to call the police, but there was nothing they can do.

Or so they claimed to be. No bodies found, no evidence found. Then some of the huntsmen were arrested for treason. He then remembers from what Flynt and Katt have said when huntsmen have claimed to be wrongfully arrested. There's more to the story that should've been investigated. Or rather, someone was trying to shut them up. Looking back, the pair did seemed too astonished to stay in Atlas. About Winter's behavior. It reminded him of The Crown, an organization that involves twin semblance users who're descendants of the Vacuan King. And tried to bring back the monarchy. But it failed.It came to Neptune that Winter might also have some connections to the kidnappings. Regarding his brother Jupiter, she must've been cornered and got threatened somehow. He didn't want to blame someone who's only doing this for his/her loved one. But at the same time, it's unforgivable. For Weiss' sake. Then he saw something sparkling beneath the sand. He then followed the spark and dug up the item, that is half-buried. It was a red moon stone, the Autumn Moon Stone. It glowed by the moonlight. Then he heard someone moaning. Like someone's in pain. He glanced up to see a familiar figure limping, while holding onto the brick wall. It was Drey. Only this time, he's on his own.

"Drey?"Why was Rick not with him? That was the question he didn't want to find out. But when he looked around. Drey held his abdomen. To Neptune's shock, there was molten metal cooled off mixed with blood. He was breathing heavily. Something was wrong. He was doing fine with Rick, until he was stabbed. He began to question himself, was it Rick who did this? Did he just left him for dead? What did he do to deserve this? All those questions would have to wait as Drey fell to his knees and Neptune caught up to him. "Drey, what happened? Where's Rick? Who did this to you?" He shook his shoulders. But Drey was in so much pain. He fell unconscious.

Neptune wasted no time to search through his pockets to find his scroll. And dialed his sister's number to get him help. He may be his enemy, but he didn't deserve to die after being abandoned by his partner/cousin. "Hey, Sis. It's me, I got someone who needs medical attention." Neptune contacts Ceres to let her know that he is borrowing Drey's scroll. "Just hold on a bit longer, okay?" Neptune assured him, not leaving his side until the ambulance arrives."...You need to run...Rick...he's gonna-he's gonna..." He rasped, coughing out blood, not a good sign for his health. "Don't start explaining yet, you have to get to the hospital first." Neptune told him.

#iceberg rwby #neptune vasilias #weiss x neptune #weiss schnee #Icy Seas #Arctic Ocean

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